


Limbo

by okaywhateverokayyes



Category: Animal Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Depression, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Friendship/Love, Healing, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Minor Violence, Post-Canon, Recovery, Rough Sex, Surfing, Surfing Jargon, Unresolved Sexual Tension, minor season 1 spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-28 11:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 121,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7638865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaywhateverokayyes/pseuds/okaywhateverokayyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he attempted to close his eyes completely, he didn’t know whether he would ever wake up ever again and be stuck in an eternal limbo or whether he would temporarily fall asleep and the instant jolt of fear from his bad dreams, would wake him up. He couldn’t take the risk. Not when it made him feel a thousand times worse when he opened his eyes again.</p><p> </p><p>A story in Adrian's POV, because he deserves it.</p><p>06.21.28: Apologies to everyone. Several things happened, none of them are as significant as the fact that the LAST chapter to this story , was on a computer... that CRASHED. Sigh- hopefully season 3, and with amount of Adrian x Deran content, I will be able to finish it sometime.. soon? I did NOT forget this story. This story is my child. Adrian is my child. While we're at it, give Adrian a last name!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We’ll see how this goes, but here’s my attempt at how Adrian might be. I want to preface this by saying, with how much we have to work with, I always thought Adrian was way too intelligent for the both of them. This doesn’t discredit Deran but.. Adrian is my main boo.

Chapter 1

20 hrs. 9 minutes. 23 seconds.

Adrian shoved his hand into a cabinet, grasping onto air until his hand got in contact with a container. He pulled it out and assessed the details.

S249A Surfboard Laminating Resin.

Turpentine. The consequence of not having an epoxy covered board. Usually a day out in the Cali weather was something Adrian knew would soften the wax but solvents were less effective on turpentine.

S249A Surfboard Laminating Resin. He quickly read through the jargon until his eyes landed on methyl ethyl ketone. He quickly sighed a breath of relief, knowing that this alcohol solvent would counteract the difficulty of the turpentine residue.

Adrian rubbed his eye with his free hand, frustrated that the irony didn’t fall short to his dismay. What a fucking waste.

He was awarded a new board in his last tournament; FCS fins. It was a relatively short gathering, prizes were worthy of his time and attention. Despite it being a short gathering, it caught sponsors’ attention. He was well aware of the fact, even after being in the game for a relatively short period of time, that talent was recognized and seeked for in obscure competitions and FCS fins was not as unknown, relative to others he participated in. It was someone’s pot of gold to becoming one step closer to being recognized.

It was a way for him to get recognized despite his conscious reluctance to not be recognized, since he spent the last couple of months couped in , leaving time to be ready available for-

20 hours. 11 minutes. 8 seconds.

Fuck.

Adrian pushed himself off of the ledge, closed the cabinet shut and turned to place the resin beside the board. He paused for a slight minute, momentarily playing with the ghosts of the board, grazing his fingers over the board without actually touching it.

God. He tossed his head back and sighed.

He knew that there was this fucking cosmic enigma to surfing that he didn’t have the words to use in order to articulate his feelings but when his body wasn’t in the water, as it wasn’t that moment, he was more cognizant of the euphoria he-oh-so-ever itched for.

Too bad it’s a fucking loss. Fucking turpentine.

Adrian sauntered through the room and stopped short of the fridge. He leaned his head in and grabbed a beer, nudging the cap into the corner of his mouth and using his top canines to create pressure, before using his bottom teeth to unclasp the lip.

Despite the alcohol content flowing through his throat, the somewhat malty bitterness, did nothing to reroute his thoughts.

Turpentine. Water. Surfing. Work. Wax. Turpentine. Water. Surfing. Work. Sleep. Wax. Turpentine-

Fuck.

20 hours. 12 minutes. 11 seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a tumblr ; which I usually update first.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried something new. Introduced a new character. No one too important.

408 hours. 45 minutes. 18 seconds.

He couldn’t sleep. Adrian was getting more and more aware of the fact that every time he tried to shut his eyes close, his mind was inundated with thoughts that he wanted to never think about, ever again. The problem, he knew he could never really physiologically escape, was that nightmares were the result of reality meshing in with his fears.

‘We often try to ignore our difficult issues with distractions during the day but when we are asleep and are forced to be alone in our own heads, these difficult issues will be addressed’

Something he read somewhere in a magazine.

He knew that one can outgrow bad dreams. Can one outlive their own tangible nightmare? He pondered until the voice in his head kept repeating the same resounding answer: NO.

He thought distance would help placate his situation. The moment he knew he could afford to relocate temporarily for what he thought would be a much needed reprieve, he stuffed his bag with a couple of shorts, some tanks , his only washed sweater and drove.

He drove until he couldn’t remember what it felt like to be in Oceanside. Until he couldn’t remember how it felt to be suffocated by Oceanside, by-

408 hours. 46 minutes. 9 seconds.

Pinyon Pines, California. That’s where he pulled over to refill his truck. As he placed the nozzle into the tank opening, he rested his body against the trunk. He felt his weight shift off of his back, and it was more apparent for him than it ever was his entire ride, that it was far enough.

Motel 7.

Sometimes he wondered if there was some inside joke he wasn’t aware of since the number seven was so haphazard. He wanted to ask the lady at the front, a receptionist of sort, (Betsy he would later learn was her name) but thought otherwise when it became quite apparent that she would not appreciate his sense of humor, or lack thereof.

Betsy was, safely put, aggressively affectionate and eerily inquisitive. The moment he walked through the open doors, she turned around from clasping a key onto the hook on the wall and wore this wide grin that he was sure that not a vile animal itself, would let it fall short.

“Hello, DAR-lung”.

She tended to drawl her words out, he later learned.

Adrian couldn’t help but smile. She was charming to say the very least. There was something about her that screamed Thumper from Bambi.

Just as immediately as she wore that smile, just as quickly, her smile fell. She didn’t even try to converse with him at that point. He wondered if he must have done something by not responding. Whether his silence was somehow indicative of his lack of bedside manners.

He felt like she was dissapointed by him.

Something about that hurt him.

He was tired of disappointing people.

‘I’ve just come for-“

She cut him off abruptly, shoving the key into his chest.

“Hun, you look like death itself,” she walked around the front desk and grabbed the backpack he slung over his back, retreating steadily out the doors and turned right, not even turning around to see if he followed. Which he did.

Before he could even catch up to her, she turned to look at him and placed her palm out.

Oh, right. The key.

As Adrian handed it over to her, she began to whisper in the dimly lit area, “Why don’t you take some rest and we’ll talk about who you are, who I am, what is it about the way I talk and whatever pleases your mind,” the door made the most nail biting sound as it opened, “tomorrow?”

Tomorrow turned into days.

He thought leaving the place meant he could finally find some inner peace but it felt like he was fighting a losing battle. Distance didn’t eradicate his worries or fears, it seemed to have amplified it.

Sitting in a motel room, surrounded by a location he couldn’t recognize even though he stared at it every single morning, flooded with sounds of water running through the pipelines in the wall, cigarette aroma perforating through the walls, everything about it made him feel less safe and more uncomfortable.

For the first time, he felt like he was left alone with nothing but his thoughts. His thoughts were nothing short of unpleasant. He fucking hated it. What he hated more was the fact that the pasty room walls seemed to reverberate his inner thoughts, despite the fact that they couldn’t silence the noises from the adjacent rooms.

The fucking irony.

He deeply despised his mind, that he was quickly aware of.

He also deeply disliked how much time he had in his hands.

Because it meant that he had the time and space to rationalize but he couldn’t rationalize something that was irrational. Without thinking about a certain person

408 hours. 53 minutes. 42 seconds.

So here he was, wasting his time because he ended up thinking about EVERYTHING and doing everything he possibly could do to not think about ANYTHING.

A conundrum.

Adrian lifted himself off of the recliner, shoving what was left of the crust into his mouth. He leaned forward to switch off the tv and made his way through the room, to the open window. As he leaned against the sill, he partially closed his eyes as the whafty wind, wavered over his face.

If he attempted to close his eyes completely, he didn’t know whether he would ever wake up ever again and be stuck in an eternal limbo or whether he would temporarily fall asleep and the instant jolt of fear from his bad dreams, would wake him up. He couldn’t take the risk. Not when it made him feel a thousand times worse when he opened his eyes again.

Sometimes his sockets seemed like Windows to his thoughts. Sometimes his sockets seemed like an ingress into hell.

It ended up always being the same bad dream, a disparate rendition of one moment. He was young; he could remember exactly how old he was. Thirteen.

He remembered the day distinctly. He was sitting in a classroom, not expecting much. Back then, when he was left alone with his thoughts, he thought about catching an onshore. He thought about his wetsuit, getting his body into it. He thought about his board and how excited he was to get his hands on them and wax it up to reduce the probability of slipping as he rode the wave.

Simple shit.

What he wasn’t prepared for was having the empty seat beside him being occupied by the one guy who has basically played both the worst adversary he ever faced, and the best friend he ever had.

Soon after, his dreams always parted based off of what he thought were choices he was making. Similar to the concept of the butterfly effect. What if he made the choice not to introduce himself to the kid who everyone seemed to dislike, because of the way he held himself? What if he made the choice to not make the mistake of formulating a friendship with him? What if he never became complacent with having the attention of this one kid? What if he tried to make other friendships that were as concrete as he thought he had with this one guy?

The ‘what ifs’ conglomerated to the same thought; the one that made him want to never shut his eyes again.

Adrian GAVE HIM the privilege of embodying any emotion and shut off his own.

He fell in love with him. He forgave him for everything and anything because he loved him.

The worst of it all; He was just as much complicit in his own misery as the one person he always easily blamed it for.

409 hours. 0 minutes. 11 seconds.


	3. Chapter 3

Home. It was time to go home. Adrian realized that over the years, he had lost sight of what it meant to be even home. Oceanside was a convenient abode that did nothing to provide him what usually entails by being home.

  
The moment he passed the ‘welcome to oceanside’ sign, he started to feel an itch in his eyes. His chest started to burn and he was losing sensation in his hands. He wondered if this how it felt to be dead amongst the living. Being but not really being. Moving but not really feeling. Struggling but never really recovering. Drowning but never truly floating.  
Adrian slumped further into his seat as he took a turn that would eventually lead to his surf shop. His heart palpitated through his chest and he could hear the thumping in his ears; it was loud and it was getting louder as he got closer.

  
As he pulled into the front lot, he quickly noticed that there was someone making their way towards him.

  
He blinked a couple of times to focus on his vision. When he focused intently, the figure was as clear as daylight.

  
Craig.

  
“Hey man.”

  
Craig looked as if he wore a coat of armour. His shoulders were broader, his stature was more resilient; he looked ready for a fight or maybe even an argument.  
But Adrian never got to neither hear nor see it.

He looked at Adrian and wore a tired smile. It wasn’t a smile more than it was just the appropriate thing to do when talking to someone. But when did Craig ever consider how he held himself when he had a conversation?

  
“Hey, Craig.” Adrian unbuckled his seatbelt and removed the key from the ignition. He paused momentarily; he didn’t know whether he wanted to talk to Craig and bluntly tell him to fuck off or whether he would engage in a conversation to divert any awkward situation.

  
Well saying fuck you to a guy who could probably dump his ass would be rather stupid, Adrian concluded.

  
Considering how Craig wasn’t the Cody he was even remotely close to yet the one he thought he could rely on ended up beating him in a bathroom stall. If he could do that to Adrian, what could Craig do to him?

  
He went with the former. Why? He knew that him relying on rationality when it came to these people was the most illogical thing he could do.

  
They’re unpredictable. He knew that better than anyone would need to know.

  
Craig took a step back as Adrian approached the front of the surf shop, key in his hand.

  
“What’s up?” He decided it was preliminary to ask, hoping Craig would be the Craig he knew and responded with a bleak ‘nothing much’.

  
Craig shifted around beside him. There was something about Craig that was unusually unfamiliar. His hair was even longer than he last remembered, he had worn a pair of shirts and a white top that’s he’s seen plenty of times before. But he also noticed the bruising when Craig went to tuck his hair behind his ear. Which he was doing so often, it was hard to miss.

  
“Just around,” Craig replied, “checking to see if the waves are decent for a surf.”

  
Adrian raised his brow.

  
The ocean was miles away. If Craig was lying, he was waiting for Adrian to call him out on it. He could tell by how Craig slanted slightly to assess him as he stretched the key to slide into the notch in the door handle, and continued to glare at him.

  
Adrian knew that If he did that, if he called him out, he knew that it would lead to a situation he didn’t want to deal with. He knew how to handle a Cody; he had to divert their attention. Give them just enough so that they feel satisfied enough to leave.

  
He’s had years of experience to master that technique.

  
So he nodded and proceeded to unlock the store.

  
Craig followed .

  
And for some reason, for some enigmatic reason, Adrian felt like he should tell him to actually fuck off. It’s one thing to be cornered at the front of store, but between four walls? There was no way out other than getting past him, Adrian assessed.

  
“Look man, I’m tired,” Adrian began, feigning a yawn to emphasize a feeling that was remotely not there, “I’m going to hit the sack once I finish some stuff around here.”  
He started to stretch his arms and faked another yawn for even more emphasis.

  
In the corner of his eye, he focused on how Craig slumped his shoulders. There was a deep crest in his forehead, like he was hurting himself trying to think. He began to nibble on his lower lip and nothing dissuaded Adrian more than when Craig caught him staring.

  
Fuck.

  
“Where were you, man?” Craig implored.

  
What.

  
Craig leaned against the closed door, “Like, I asked around and you weren’t here. You ditched or something?”

  
Adrian knew that it was a rhetorical question because not knowing where he was in a town where everyone knew someone who knew where one person was, that was rare.

  
“I mean I get why. Sometimes you just want to leave and not deal with shit, right?”

  
Right.

  
No.

  
“What are you getting at?” Adrian barked but somewhere inside of him, he was surprised at the anger in his voice.

  
Where did that come from?

  
The crease in Craig’s face reappeared. This time, it was deeper. Craig raised his arms and crossed them over each other, moving slightly to get , what Adrian thought, was more comfortable .

  
He was getting comfortable because he wasn’t going to leave. He was getting comfortable because Craig came here prepared to say something.

  
“It’s not like you see me often anyway, man.” Adrian continued.

  
He didn’t want to know where this was going.

  
“So I don’t understand what the big deal is..” His voice wavered off.

  
Craig reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette.

  
“Yeah, the thing is,” he began as he placed it in his mouth, “I went looking for you. Kind of been checking back here for the past week,” he took out a lighter in the same motion and began to light it up.

  
Why? Adrian wanted to ask. Why?

  
Craig took a couple of puffs before he resumed his posture, cigarette between his index and his middle finger, his back against the wall, his eyes deeply glaring into Adrian.

  
“We all have shit to deal with man.” He stated matter-of-factly.

  
Adrian didn’t respond. He held eye contact because he wanted to prove to himself more than anyone that he wasn’t going to be complacent with Craig waiting for him at the front of his shop, be remotely calm when Craig followed him into his store or be minutely okay with the fact that Craig was trying to invoke something he couldn’t put a finger on.

  
He was scared. But he spent a good part of his life terrified. If not about Craig , about HIM.

  
422 hours. 41 minutes. 8 seconds.

  
“Look,” Craig’s tone changed, “when shit goes wrong, I snort some shit and I’ll admit, fuck around a bit,” he took another puff, “That’s how I deal with stress.”

  
“Smurf wouldn’t let you leave town.” He tested the waters.

  
Craig began to smile. This time, the genuinety of it reached his eyes.

  
“Well Smurf would lose her shit, true, ” He chuckled, “but not over me.”

  
He wanted to ask why but before he could, Craig took a step forward and Adrian immediately took a step back.

  
His legs betrayed his facade.

  
“I’m not going to hurt you, Adrian.”

  
‘That’s what your brother says,’ he wanted to counteract with but bit back his words. What’s the point of going back through old skeletons?

  
422 hours. 42 minutes. 0 seconds.

  
Craig itched at the back of his neck, before shoving a strand behind his ear. He retreated back to where he originally was but instead of leaning against the wall, he stood.

  
“I wanted to know if you were okay.”

  
Fuck.

  
Adrian couldn’t remember the last time someone asked him that. Albeit, he would have lied back then to avoid pouring out his anger, pain and frustration. Right now, he was still uncertain if he wanted to be read as an open book but one thing he knew for certain was that he didn’t want to lie about how he felt. He did that for far too long.

  
He was angry most of the time because he felt like he himself played a crucial role in his own misery. He was tired the rest of the time because he was always trying to fight his new formidable enemy: anxiety. Adrian hated how desperation for something else morphed into anxiousness. He hated it because rather than finding solace, he ending up replacing one form of inner pain with another.

  
He was not okay. Far from it. He couldn’t remember the last time he genuinely felt happy to just be himself. He used to surf because that’s what he loved to do, surfing was a part of him. Inextricably tied to his happiness. Now, surfing was his mental reprieve from his daily internal struggles.

  
He would sometimes be out onshore and as much as he enjoyed a wave or two, as he’s gliding his board through the waters, he would remember how he wished it was ‘just over’.

  
He thought the simplicity in life would be enough for a guy like him but now that the rugs been removed from beneath his feet, he wanted more. He wanted to be happy without having to force it. He wanted to enjoy being in the water again without feeling like he’s suffocating. He wanted to be able to be himself without letting that be a prerogative but a natural way of being.

  
“Why?” He croaked.

  
Fuck. Adrian bit his tongue and held back the burning sensation arising in his throat. Every part of him started to feel like needles were poking in every crevice.

  
“Because you’re my friend too.” Craig sighed, as if it was the most obvious answer to his question.

  
FUCK.

He bit down harder until he could taste blood in the back of his throat. The pain was becoming numb. Something he was awfully used to.

  
“I’ve known you just as long as you’ve known Deran, dude. ” And there it was. The truth. But then there was also the fact that it’s the first time he’s heard his name in a while.

Hearing his name out of someone else’s mouth felt all too real and the gravity of how it felt to even hear his name, came rushing back to him.

  
Adrian pulled a stool from underneath the desk and took a seat; suddenly the floor felt like it was moving and he wasn’t sure how long it would be before his knees wobbled and he fell. He reached his hand underneath to pull out another stool but Craig shook his head and gave him a haphazard wave to indicate his content with just standing.

  
“I know that.” Adrian whispered. If it weren’t for the fact that there was no one around near his place, he was sure that Craig could have missed it.

  
But he didn’t.

  
“Good. Remember that the next time you’re you know,” Craig motioned with his hands, waving them side to side as if it was implicit what he meant, “if you ever want to go for a surf or whatever,” he said between his drags, “I’m game. Because you know,” the last drag was longer than a couple of seconds, “we’re friends.”

  
Craig proceeded to pull out another cigarette. He went to blow a couple drags, not once did he stop to fill the silence. It wasn’t like Adrian made the effort to, as well.

  
Silence used to scare him. He felt like he had a prerogative to say something to fill up the silence but he learned quickly that there was so much to glean when words weren’t involved.

  
Adrian was starting to see this entire situation in a different light. Craig wasn’t here to ambush him, something he feared would occur if it ever were to go completely down south with Deran. Well if his brothers were to ever find out.

  
Craig was here to be a friend, a friend he thought he never had because the entirety of the definition was lost over the years

  
True, he knew Craig just as long. Adrian was over at their place several times. Craig showed up at several of his events and he cheered him even as he drank himself stupid and couldn’t remember the details of his ride. That didn’t stop Craig from telling Adrian how he ‘could wipe anyone’s ass with his eyes closed’.

  
Craig was there when he first rented the store. Fuck, he was one of the first people to tell him to ‘do whatever the fuck makes you happy’ and he couldn’t describe it then, but he was always grateful for those words of encouragement.

  
And here was Craig, wondering whether he was okay. And what did he presume? He presumed the worst because he never consciously thought to give Craig the benefit of the doubt.

  
Because he had exhausted them all on Deran.

  
422 hours. 44 minutes. 12 seconds.

  
“I’m just doing.” Adrian responded, feeling that a response was the least Craig deserved for how he behaved.

  
Craig shrugged, “All we can do sometimes is just be, man,” he watched as Craig jabbed the cig against the wooden ledge and then dumped the rest into the trash container, “but that’s not living.”

  
Jesus Christ.

  
Adrian waited for him to continue but it was quickly apparent that they both wanted to let the silence fall over it. To give him a moment to process it.

  
Adrian had lost sight of a lot of things. He had failed to clutch onto reality because he had resorted to a fantasy to withstand the pain and anguish he had experienced over the last two years. He had purposely placed himself in a place where he could lie to himself that he was okay and everything was okay.

  
But that was not reality.

  
Because that was not living.

  
“I should get going,” Craig mumbled, “Smurf’s gonna…” He knew that he didn’t have to finish that sentence.

  
Smurf. 422 hours. Smurf. Shit.

  
“Listen, I know I’ve been gone for a while,” Adrian shuffled against the stool, pausing to catch a breath, “if you’re also here about the rent-”

  
Craig snorted , “Don’t worry about it man.”

  
Adrian shot back, “Smurf is going to have me strangled if I don’t.”

  
Craig just as quickly replied, “well as amusing as that sounds,” he reached for the door handle, “we wouldn’t let that happen.”

  
WE.

  
“You know that right, Adrian?“

  
The pain in his chest only alleviated.

  
No, he didn’t know.

  
Adrian watched as Craig gave him a slight nod, his indication of a goodbye and then disappeared behind the door and out back into the street.

  
Adrian waited until he couldn’t see Craig’s retreating figure before he let the walls silence his wails.

  
422 hours. 45minutes. 52 seconds


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I learned Spanish for a couple of years but I will never say that I am fluent in it. I tried.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has been reading it!

Chapter 4

“Tenemos que eliminar los restos y los envían al depósito de chatarra más cercana,” the shorter, stumpier man beside the pick up truck, hollered. He had the most unconventional attire on, considering the temperature. He held a clipboard in one hand, and sternly assessed the sheet before shouting some other things.

“Excuse me,” Adrian approached him, “What are you guys doing?”

He wanted to insert some profanity but thought otherwise, just in case it was a misunderstanding that these men were picking up some scraps at the back of his store. You don’t fight fire with fire. Or fire with gasoline. You fight fire with water if you don’t want to alleviate the situation.

The man glanced up for a brief moment, seemed to assess Adrian but then resumed to look back at the sheet of paper in his hands.

At his angle, Adrian could articulate what was written but what was unfortunate, was that everything was written in Spanish. Plus, nothing was organized, some notes on the top, a couple of sentences in the bottom, numbers in the middle, completely random yet completely understandable to this man.

“Listen, this is trespassing. This is my store. Tell your men-”

“También es necesario para completar la pared seca . También nos instruye para reemplazar el yeso, a veces una indicación de molde sería el desgarro de los bordes.”

He turned the clipboard in his hands and used his free hand to pull a pen off of his front seat.

“Sir, you do understand that I don’t understand what you’re saying.” Adrian calmly tried again, thought it took a lot of effort when this man wasn’t even making the effort to try to communicate where they both could comprehend each other.

He didn’t respond to his frame of questioning. Instead, the man wore a stoic expression.

Adrian glanced down and focused on where the man placed the pen, on a different sheet of paper, this time with words he could understand but the print was insanely tiny for him to not be able to articulate.

“Sir,” he sighed, “there has to be a misunder-”

“Estamos en una crisis de tiempo . ¿Entiendes eso? Nos dijeron específicamente por la Senora Cody a-”

Senora Cody.

“Smurf?”

“Smurf?” The man repeated, obviously confused, “Quien es Smurf?”

Who is Smurf? He understood that.

Blonde hair. Medium stature. Uncomfortably affectionate. Perpetually insane. A self-aggrandizing, infectious and manipulative mother to 3 short-tempered, mildly cultured sons?

If he only knew how to say that in Spanish.

“Just, give me a second. Okay?” Adrian pulled out his phone, “Necesita un minuto, senor.” He was able to to pull out some words that he did retain once they were in B-

473 hours. 11 minutes. 16 seconds.

It took a second for him to remember but as he dialed the numbers, he placed the phone between his ear and his shoulder, indicating with his other hand to emphasize that he needed a minute and then kept pointing at the phone. As the dial continued, he motioned in verbatim, altering between his index finger and then a phone symbol.

“What up, man?”

“What’s your mother up to, Craig?”

He could hear the music reverberating through his phone, quick movement, whispers, shallow breathing. He didn’t know what to make of it.

“Whaat.” Craig sounded groggy.

Fuck.

“Am I interrupting something?” There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice but Craig was as dense as he possibly could be to not pick it up from the tone of his voice.

“Yeah, man. You kind of are.” Adrian wanted to punch the air with how genuinely annoyed Craig sounded.

Would it make any sense for him to even bother talking to a high-induced man who couldn’t possibly differentiate between daylight and nighttime ?

Adrian pressed the ‘end’ button and grabbed at the ends of his hair and pulled in frustration.

What a friend.

Fucking Christ.

“Señor, necesitamos la firma . Cuanto más demoremos esto, cuanto más tiempo se tardará.”

Adrian peered down at the sheet and between not knowing what to do and knowing that there was this man in front of him, raising his voice every second Adrian did not respond, Adrian grabbed the keys to his truck from out of his pocket and stormed past the man.

—  
Angry? Was he angry? Of course he fucking was. He goes to open his shop and he’s ambushed by a couple of men, who were removing stuff from the back of the store, carried paint brushes; whatever Smurf’s intent might have been, not letting him know beforehand meant that she was only trying to fuck with him.

He knew Smurf had to have been deliberately fucking with him if she sent a contractor of some sort who he couldn’t even have a conversation with because they didn’t speak the same language. It wasn’t a fucking coincidence that none of the other guys couldn’t as well: it’s never a coincidence if Smurf had anything to do with it.

What the fuck is she getting at anyway? Despite Craig’s nonchalance about the rent money, Adrian made sure she got the cash. He sent Charlie, someone who works a couple of shifts, to give the cash to her. He did what he needed to do so he never had to see her yet somehow, she finds a way to fuck him in the ass to rile him up.

Goddamn.

In frustration, Adrian banged the steering wheel. Fisting a couple of strands of his own hair in one hand and tugged on them until his scalp ached.

Fuck.

Fucking family.

Fuck.

The familiar black high-altered gates stared back at him as he pulled over. He placed his truck in park and stormed out of it, before repeatedly pressing on the buzzer.

He knew it was one thing to be have to be able to absorb her insanity from her son but it was entirely another thing to have to be directly fucked by the source. Who did she think she was? Contractually, any repair or alteration to his shop, which she might own, would have to be relayed to him. It’s in the goddamn contract.

A contract which he was surprised that someone as sly, manipulative, criminal as her would even bother asking anyone who wanted to rent her places to sign. It was hypocritical that she would send her sons to be complicit in crimes yet she took extra steps to ensure that her property was her property.

But then again, this was Smurf. Smurf doesn’t have to make sense as long as she had what she needed. Her sons. Control. Her sons acquiescing to her demands. She didn’t have to make sense because she was perpetually wrapped in her own world with her own rules.

“Yes?” Her voice interrupted his thoughts.

Despite the anger that was boiling within him, her voice got him to snap out of it. His anger dissipated like vapor out of a cooker. He found himself gaping at the buzzer and then it hit him-  
Where he was. Who was behind those gates. Who he was talking to.

What the fuck was he doing here?

“Hellooo?” Adrian took a couple of steps back until his back collided with the door of his truck.

He gazed down at his feet and focused on the grains of sand that were embedded between his toes.

What was he even thinking?

“Hun. You know I can see you right?” He could hear her smirk through the speaker. He could see her being amused by his behavior. She was probably assessing him as he stood quietly against the safety of his truck. She probably came to the conclusion that he was a daft idiot, just like the rest of them.

Adrian suddenly couldn’t breathe. He found himself scratching his palm with his nails. He couldn’t just bolt in his truck. She would think he was spineless fuck. But so what if she did? It’s not like he needed a reason for her to think highly of him. She didn’t mean anything to him.

“I’m gonna open the gates. Okay?” She said slowly, almost if she came to the conclusion that not only was he obsequious, but a complete moron. Which had to mean something since she’s constantly surrounded by her sons.

Adrian found himself nodding, not proceeding to give a verbal confirmation because he knew that she was still watching him.

He got back into his truck and pulled in. The moment he pulled in, he could sense that it was a mistake. He should have offered to park somewhere outside. Now that the gates were closed behind him, there was no way out.

There was an option to run it over.

That wouldn’t go over smoothly.

Maybe he was an idiot.

He found himself leaning over the steering wheel and glaring at the sight before him. The garage, the jaded color of the house, the triangulated corner that would lead him to the back of their house. The edge of the pool stuck out.

He noticed that there were no other sounds. In fact, it was so quiet, he wondered if he was even where he was.

473 hours. 32 minutes. 56 seconds.

He paced himself as he walked through the back and tapped on the glass door. Smurf picked her head up from whatever she was doing and motioned with her hand to come in.

So he did.

“Oh, Adrian,” Smurf placed the plate she held in her hand on top of the island and walked over to wrap her hands around him.

He stood frozen. He could wrap his arms around to reciprocate the gesture. But he would rather have his head pounded into a concrete floor.

Smurf pulled back to look at him; she began to rub her hands across his shoulders and wore this smile that he knew was full of absolute shit.

“Oh honey, it’s been a while. I never see you around here anymore.” He noticed how she rested one of her palms against his wrist and the other was still running down the length of his arm.  
Uncomfortable was an understatement.

He found himself nodding. Nodding seemed like an appropriate answer. It was ambiguous enough that Smurf could interpret it however she wanted to.

He watched as she retreated back behind the island, reached for the plate and then made her way past him to place it on the table.

“I’ve made some meatloaf for the boys,” she looked back up at him and the same expression was back on her face, which made his skin tingle and the pit in his stomach just widen to an inexplicable size.

“But,” she sighed, clasping her hands together, “they won’t be home for a while. Doesn’t mean that we can’t have some.” Her voice piqued up.

He didn’t know what to say.

So he waited until she had something to say.

“You wouldn’t let me eat this alone, would you?”

Would he? Would he want to indulge her by sitting on this chair, in close proximity to her, eating food with her ? A woman who has raised sons who probably don’t understand how to have a decent relationship with anyone? Sons who don’t know how to respond to affection without being unhinged and defensive. Would he want to give her the satisfaction of his company?

No. He wouldn’t.

But he found himself taking a seat in the chair. He found himself betraying his convictions because that’s what Smurf did to people. She had this aura around her that screamed ‘if it isn’t my way, there is no other way’

He found it quite insensitive and selfish. But even his own body betrayed him.

“Good!” Smurf pulled a chair beside him, “we have much to talk about anyway.” She began to grab the napkin off of the holster and proceeded to place it in his lap, unbearably close to momentarily grasping at his crotch.

He took a deep breath, shut his eyes closed before quickly opening them up. He didn’t want her to see that she was getting to him. He wasn’t her son. He wasn’t her fucking son.

He picked up the fork in one hand, the knife in the other, and began to slice into the loaf. For convenience, he shoved one into his mouth and proceeded to bite down.

Adrian felt like his heart was trying to pound it’s way out of his chest. Despite the cool air in the house, his palms were sweaty, his skin prickled, his throat itched. He could feel the heat trailing up into his ears; he didn’t know whether he was going to pass out or scream.

“I heard you came to the pool party that Craig threw.”

He lifted his head up, begrudgingly. The party. That was weeks ago. That was a long time ago. Yet he could remember it as if it happened yesterday.

“How did Craig do? He tends to always go a little bit over the top when it comes to a party.”

And Deran.

He wanted to say it but the word fell short on the brink of his lips. He couldn’t find himself saying his name.

“I also heard you left early.” She wasn’t waiting for him to reply because he could tell that she calculated her words carefully to be able to have him explain to her about his quick departure.  
He wasn’t her fucking son.

“Yeah. I did.” Adrian said nothing more.

He could sense that she wasn’t satisfied with that response. He could tell by the way she paused from slicing into the loaf in front of her, how he could feel her eyes seeping into his skin, how she began to tap the floor with her foot, inconsistently.

He knew that she didn’t want to ask him to explain because Smurf was Smurf. Smurf tended to get answers out of her boys because she not only put the fear of God into them, she implemented this notion that despite being their mother, there will always be a need for them to have fear of abandonment, into them.

If they didn’t comply, they wouldn’t have access to her hospitality. If they didn’t tell her the truth, they didn’t have her love or her perverse version of compassion and endearment. If they didn’t do what she want wanted them to do-well, when would her sons ever disobey the woman who had made it difficult for them to ever understand a life without her?

He was not her son, damn it.

As he took another bite, he placed the utensils down: two bites was enough. This chit chat, had gone long enough.

“I went to check on the shop today,” he started, “ My Spanish isn’t that great so I didn’t really understand what they were trying to say.” His words came out faster than he thought but was Smurf was just as quick to interject.

She tilted her head slightly, and then shrugged as she went back to cutting up the meat.

“Hun, maybe you should brush up on your Spanish, a bit. Hmm?”

Adrian bristled in his chair.

Fucking Christ.

“They were picking up the scraps in the back, painting over the front of the shop,” he continued as if she didn’t say anything of importance, “I didn’t stay to see what else they were doing but I talked to, I’m guessing he’s the contractor.” 

She nodded.

“I didn’t know what exactly to do so I left-”

Smurf waved the fork in his face as she began to mutter between her chewing, “Adrian, get to the point .”

The seat he was siting on, was getting intensely warmer. He felt as if any second would be the moment he would jolt and scramble.

“Yes,” Adrian clenched his teeth together, “Ma'am.” He slipped.

Smurf looked satisfied with the notion of respect.

Adrian found that the pit in his stomach evolved into this need to vomit from his throat.

“What exactly is that they are doing?”

Smurf obnoxiously began to lick the contents of the crumbs off of her fingers, shaking her head and chuckling, as if there was some joke that she forget to tell him.

“It’s nothing really,” Smurf tossed her head back, moving her head side to side to adjust what he presumed to be, her hair, “there were some much needed repairs for that store. You don’t want it to look like it’s being infested, do you?”

There was so much he wanted to ask.

He wanted to ask why she didn’t think she would need to tell him? Despite her living her own world with her own rules, what part of relaying a message that men would arrive to repair the store is in anyway something that’s not needed to be told to him? He wondered if she was aware of the fact that she’s perpetually insane?

Instead, he found himself asking her: “Will you please,” he added, “let me know the next time you send some guys over for a repair. Since you were trying to do something nice.” For once.  
He knew Smurf wasn’t as obtuse as her sons to miss the tone of sarcasm in his voice.

“Well,” she replied, “Of course I can!”

Her smile disappeared.

At that moment, he didn’t know if he ticked her off. He didn’t know whether she was lying to him. He didn’t know whether he was being fucked with.

And quite honestly, he couldn’t care.

“If this is about the rent being late-” he began.

“Between you, Craig, Pope and Deran,” she exaggerated a sigh, “I don’t care about the money. You paid it anyway. You have been paying on time for years, anyway. I knew you wouldn’t do that to me, Adrian.”

Craig. Deran. And Pope?

Pope.

Pope?

Deran.

“Oh you should have heard them,” her incisions were getting much more forceful but her lack of emotion on her face did nothing to confirm nor deny how he believed she felt, “Adrian’s a good guy. Adrian is a kid who knows how to keep promises. Adrian this. Adrian that,” she waved the fork in the air in a circling motion beside her temple, “drove me crazy. I brought it up once, didn’t bring it up again.”

Smurf then pointed the fork at him, two straight jabs, “I have never seen them so quick to defend anyone.”

He was sure she was over-exaggerating. If not that, she was waiting to invoke some kind of response out of him that would satiate something he felt that she was cognizant of.

“I think they all like you,” she kept jabbing the fork in the air in his direction, “even J.”

The kid who beat him up for no other reason than to not want to disappoint his uncle. The kid was in a predicament, that he was quite aware of. Adrian didn’t know whether he had it in him though to forgive him for his broken ribs, but he damn well knew that he was going to give him a chance.

Especially since he’s wasted them on-

473 hours. 52 minutes. 49 seconds.

“So what’s your secret?”

Something about that surprised Adrian. He leaned forward and raised his brow. What was his secret that somehow garnered attention from these brothers? Well he was an emotional punching bag for Smurf’s son for over 10 years. He was also his sponge that only absorbed the vitriolic and constant self-denying insecurity and somehow wore it as his own.

What was his secret to somehow be liked by virile animals?

Fuck, if he ever really wanted to know.

“You’re not much of a talker, are you?” Smurf began to grin. The grin didn’t reach her eyes. All he could see was ill-intent and nothing. Nothing in this world could have made it seem genuine. Or content.

“I guess not.” He responded, pushing back the chair and steadied his palms on the table as he got up, “Thank you for this,” he pointed at the plate, “I should get back. See exactly what they are fixing.”

Smurf kept the grin on her face. It instantly morphed into something else. It’s something he saw numerous times when Smurf became that mother who deeply ingrained fear into her own sons, that they would cower and retreat from a fight they looked forward to. It’s a look he’s seen in Deran; when he’s shoving his hands up Adrian’s shirt and biting his mouth until it bled. It was the look he saw when Deran told him to fuck off because he did not give a shit about him. It was the look he wore when he apologized profusely to him for acting in a certain way.

It was a look that screamed 'I’m getting away with it’.

'It’ could be referring to lies. 'It’ could be referring to having caused pain. 'It’ could be referring to being an absolute insensitive prick but behaving in that manner anyway because he knew that that one person will take him back.

He was getting away with fucking with his life.

And Adrian let him do that to him.

He turned away from looking at her face and dashed for the back door. As soon as he stepped outside, he couldn’t miss the way Smurf said, “I’ll see you again,” and couldn’t stop hearing Deran’s voice.

473 hours. 55 minutes. 18 seconds.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some surfing lingo here and there. I tried.

Adrian felt his skin burning. It was physically impossible for skin to just melt , but no one could tell him otherwise. He was a pale guy and when the weather was scorching hot, as it was in that moment, he knew that he needed to submerge himself into the waves.

So he found himself at Pier View, wearing his full suit, which was essentially a standard wet suit. He had his board pressed up against his side, using his other hand to support the weight of it.

As he approached the water, he leaned closer to his ankle to grab the strap off of the foot hook and angled it so his foot could easily slide through, before laying the board on the ground to tighten its grip around his ankle.

He swiftly picked up his board and approached the crashing waves, walking until his body was submerged a third in before he steadied his hands against his board and slid on top.

Adrian slid both his hands into the water and got into a rhythm; one stroke with his right hand, push the water with his palm back, wait a millisecond and then used his left hand to repeat the same technique. When both his hands were in synchronicity ,he stopped and took a moment to assess his position.

There were too many other people in his vicinity, which only increased his probability of needing to yield and paddle around the break if he were to be riding the same wave as them.

Too risky, he concluded.

He resumed his strokes in the water, noticed a remotely minute breaking wave and prepared himself to duck dive. Adrian used his arms to push the nose of the surfboard while he used his left foot to push on the tail. This allowed him to dip under the water as the waved passed above him.

  
The best apart of witnessing the magnitude of the wave transcending above him was the fact that he truly felt like he was flying. One would say riding the wave would be equivalent to flying but having the pressure of the water build up, as he tried to hold his breath in the water as he was straddling a board and using his arms similar to rotary on planes; he felt like he was floating in the air.

  
As Adrian descended above the surface, he glided his arms back into a routine and a couple of strokes later, he came to the conclusion that it was far enough.

He raised himself to straddle the board and waited for an offshore.

Adrian wiped his hand over his face and spat the water that seeped through his lips; the taste of it, rather viscous and bitter.

He didn’t have to wait long. He noticed a peak approaching his direction and since he was further out, he knew he had to swim towards the shore now or he would miss the wave.

He used his arms to reposition himself and then resumed his strokes, waiting till he could feel the down of the line.

And when he does, he lifted himself up and positioned his legs, shoulder length apart and steadied himself as the gravity of his body and the board constructively synced with the wave that heightened in size.

Adrian broke out in laughter. This was euphoria. This was fucking insane. At the speed which the wave was carrying him, he felt the cold hair prickle into his skin and counteracted the warm weather.

  
It truly was ecstasy. He felt as if he was apart of the wave: to be apart of something that made him seem insurmountable made him want to prolong the experience.

He swerved to the peak, which cascaded his board, with himself, off of the wave and he angled himself lower as soon as his board came back in contact with the passing wave.

It was a feeling he hoped he would never forget.

507 hours. 28 minutes. 58 seconds.  
—–  
Adrian walked along the pier, his wetsuit unzipped and his board hitched underneath his pit. The weather did get much cooler so he didn’t sweat as much as he would have thought.

The boardwalk itself was warmer than he’d liked but Adrian made sure to have as minimal contact with the surface of the wood with the palms of his feet.

He could only do that by quickly gliding across the floor; which if anyone were looking, made him look like an absolute ass.

He didn’t care.

He spent his whole life caring about insignificant shit.

As he began to approach the lot where he parked his truck, he noticed from the corner of his eye, a bike, stature size, black finish with slight silver on the brake hoods.

What he noticed that particularly caught his attention was the guy who stood beside it. His brown, slightly tossed hair, those pants he usually wears, a navy blue sweater.

What he also saw was how he gritted his jaw to the point where from where Adrian stood, he could hear the visceral cracking and a part of him cringed.

Josh?

Adrian didn’t have to look twice to understand that the kid was probably pissed. He had every right to be since he went from the situation with his mother to Smurf.

That was like going from a rat infested cage to a lion’s den.

Adrian stopped walking and stared at the kid.  
He really didn’t have one good reason to approach him: what was he going to do anyway? Put himself in a position to ask him how he is when he already knows that dealing with that entire family is something he couldn’t imagine? He had to deal with one and his life had been absolute shit.

  
This kid had to deal with four and Smurf. Smurf, who if he had to compare her to anything, he couldn’t articulate his thoughts because Satan itself would be too kind of a distinction to make.

  
As he was absorbed in his thoughts, he watched as Josh pushed away from the ledge and took a seat on the bench behind him.

He looked different.

Physically, he was still not as built. He didn’t have any bruises nor cuts. His hair was still the same. He looked the same but at the same time, he didn’t.

  
Then again, the only time he’s ever interacted with the kid was when he had his chest being pummeled in by Josh’s leg, so he really didn’t have the opportunity to discern how the kid looked but he didn’t look the same.

Fuck.

Adrian twisted his legs and walked towards him. There was enough distance between him and the kid for ample enough times for him to just walk away and not give a shit but he couldn’t take them.

  
As he got closer, he slowed his pace.

He did look different. His pupils were darker, he had this aura around him that made Adrian feel as if he was walking into a storm and he didn’t know whether he would get caught up in it.

Fuck.

He’s just a kid.

“Hey man,” Josh jolted, turning his head so fast, Adrian almost worried he snapped something in his neck, “you okay?”

Josh reached a hand behind his neck and began to press it. He turned too quick. Adrian knew he must have alarmed him. The kid must have not been expected to be disturbed.

Before he could even feel like copping out, Josh raised his head and un clenched his jaw. He let out a slow breath and Adrian was amazed at how he began to pull himself through. A smile so small appeared on his face, if Adrian didn’t paid as close attention as he did, he would have missed it.

“You okay?” Adrian tried again.

Josh didn’t answer.

He kept looking at him but as he stood up and extended his arm out, Adrian realized that he wasn’t going to answer that question; he didn’t have to anyway. His question was as rhetorical and futile as they come.

How are you, man? How are you dealing with these batshit crazy animals? Are you having fun having your life be completely usurped by a woman who has a leash so tight around four grown ass men that you start to wonder if she’s not a human but some incarnation of the devil.

The answer was implicitly understood when Josh didn’t answer.

Adrian looked down at Josh’s extended hand and then looked back to stare at him.

The kid moved forward, with his hand extended, “I’m Josh,” he paused momentarily, “People call me J.”

Okay.

Right.

Adrian extended his arm out and his palm met J’s. J began to shake their hands for the both of them.

“I’m Adrian.” He offered.

They both pulled back.

J shoved one hand through the curls of his and began to tug them, wistfully.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat as he continued to slide his fingers through the strands of his hair, “I know.”

Right. He shoved his foot into his stomach repeatedly until he found himself choking for air. He remembered that feeling.

“I’m sorry about that.” That, referring to beating him up.

You know, Adrian wasn’t angry at the kid. In fact, he empathized with the kid. It wasn’t the kid’s fault. It was situational. This kid was new to town, to a family he didn’t possibly understand. For some reason, he could see that J didn’t want to, come off as unreliable; he couldn’t be part of the family if he didn’t truly participate in their behaviors. He probably didn’t want to come off as weak because anyone with half a sense could see that weakness was not an attributable quality in that family. It wasn’t welcomed and they would make sure to beat it out of him.

“Don’t sweat it.” Adrian responded, offering a smile in return.

He wondered how long it would take before J’s life was not his to live: it would be Smurf’s. Adrian wondered when he would stop recognizing J as a kid but see a full grown man that had suffered under her demise. He was slightly assuaged by J’s resilience; it had been weeks since he had been in Oceanside and Adrian could still see an untouched, unscathed kid in him. Then again, that was on the external surface. Is internal dilemma?

He could UNDERSTAND the inner turmoil he was possibly undergoing but as soon as he remembered his very own, he stopped himself from going to that place

It was too risky.

“I didn’t mean to do that.” Josh- J was clear spoken, and Adrian truly felt the genuinety in his apology.

“It’s fine.” He emphasized.

This time, J nodded. He believed it. And he should because Adrian truly didn’t blame the kid. He knew who to blame.

508 hours. 3 minutes. 39 seconds.

Adrian grabbed his board a little tighter.

Fuck.

He felt his blood parse out, his head felt suddenly lighter, and his breathing went more shallow.

This poor fucking kid.

“How was it?”

Adrian concentrated on his voice and then cleared his throat before he asked: “How was what?”

J turned to face the beach, “The waves.” He elaborated, before he turned to look at him.

“I think there were more set waves as I was leaving,” Adrian cleared his throat once more, “if you’re planning on going, I’d say paddle a quarter mile out and stay closer to the long line.”

J gave a resolute nod, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then, silence.

He knew that the kid was giving him a an opportunity to leave; he broke eye contact and looked at either sides of Adrian. He shoved his other hand into the pocket in his sweatshirt and lurched his shoulders lower.

He looked absolutely miserable and a part of Adrian just broke.

He knew exactly how the kid felt.

And he couldn’t remember a hand reaching forward to help him out. He couldn’t be this kid’s hand because he was tied inextricably tighter to that family than Adrian will ever be.

But he had to offer something.

He knew that pain; that pain that swallowed him up until there was no more Adrian. There was just his body on this earth but there really was no part of him that enjoyed being apart of this tangible world.

  
He got through. He got out.

This kid-

Fuck.

“I’m going down to a place nearby for some dinner,” he watched as J glanced back up at him, “you up for a grab?”

He felt apart of him crushed as J shook his head, “I’m good. I’m not really hungry.”

Adrian didn’t want to push him. The kid was already being pushed enough with them.

Adrian knew how it felt to be ordered around into doing shit. Going to parties he couldn’t give two shits about. Having to meet Deran odd times in a day because he felt inconveniently horny and needed some release.

508 hours. 5 minutes. 13 seconds.

Refusing wasn’t an option. Especially when he knew what Deran was capable of. Or his brothers.

  
“When I first moved here, I thought that I had won the jackpot,” Adrian began, “as days passed by and I got more settled, I missed home.”

Adrian watched as J absorbed his words. The kid nodded his head slowly, but because Adrian focused so closely on him, he noticed how J let out a breath, that immediately loosened up his demeanor.

“Where was home?” He asked.

Adrian settled his board beside the bench and flexed his arms out to stretch out the tightening in the back of his calves.

“Hermann, Missouri.” He offered.

“Why did you come here?”

He could see what the kid was doing. Asking questions himself but offering up no answers. It was something Adrian would do when people would notice a change in his demeanor; he knew that he could avoid his life if he indulged in others. If he asked them how they were, soon they would forget what they were initially preoccupied with. Which was him and his offset mood.

He knew exactly what the kid was doing and yet he wasn’t going to call him out on it.

If this was this kid’s reprieve, so be it.

“My dad got a job on the west coast. I was young enough to not care but old enough to remember back home.”

J was more resolute with his nodding, “Do you miss it?”

Adrian did. He missed more of the possibility of the normal life he could have if he was there. It was a small town, everyone knew everyone. There were places to go to if he drove further out and then there were places to hide if things got tough. People were as they were: there were no facades.

  
At least that’s what he told himself since he ended up staying in Oceanside and never went back to Hermann.

“I don’t remember it anymore.”

J lowered himself to take a seat on the bench. He brought his hands to clasp then on his legs and glared out at the view in front of him.

“Your parents still here?”

Adrian walked to the opposite end of the bench and carefully lowered himself to sit down. He waited until Josh turned to look at him, with this inquisitive look, that he felt that he was welcomed to sit.

“No, they went back.” That was all he offered because truthfully, he didn’t feel comfortable talking about it. About them. About his parents.

  
He missed them. But out of sight, out of mind. If he even put himself in a place where he remembered them, he knew that there would have been an imminent mental breakdown.

There was too much of a pain realizing that there was once an option in his life for an alternative life that he didn’t have anymore because he stayed here. That hurt too much for him to ever think about.

“Do you miss them?”

Adrian laid back against the bench, stretched his legs and tilted his head back to glare into the dissolving sky.

“Sometimes.”

J shuffled beside him. He didn’t turn to look to see exactly what the kid was doing. Adrian focused on how the sky was getting darker, the sun was lowering, the weather was cooling.

He liked this weather.

“I miss my mom.” J’s voice broke through his thoughts.

Fuck.

Of course he did.

“I’m sorry about your mom.” Adrian offered.

From the corner his eye, he could see J nodding his head.

Of course he missed his mom. He didn’t know anything about her and yet it was all too relatable. He would have missed his mom if his alternative was Smurf.

Adrian pulled himself up and brought his hands to press against his temple. It was all too much for him. Thinking of what could have been rather than what is. Thinking of people he did miss but refused to acknowledge because he wanted to tell himself it would hurt less if they were out of sight, out of mind.

“I didn’t mean to-”

Adrian shook his head, “it’s fine.”

Adrian could feel J staring at him. He could see that he was genuinely upset with his line of questioning; the kid slumped into the bench and wore this almost pensive look that it was apparent that if Adrian wasn’t careful, he would leave.

“We don’t have control over everything. But what we do have control over is how we respond to it.”

  
He knew it was probably something the kid didn’t want to hear but at the same time, he knew it was the most important one he should ever learn.

Whether J realized it today, a week, a month or year from now, as long as he was a Cody, there will always be things out of his control. The sooner he accepted that a pile of shit will always be thrown at him, the better he would get at preparing for the next round.

Adrian wished he would have stood up for himself years ago. He wished he had someone to tell him that he deserved something else. He didn’t think he would have had to experience an alternative to want an alternative.

But standing up to Deran meant losing sight of what he had told himself to stay in the first place. That if Deran knew how felt about him, he wouldn’t do this to him, to the max They didn’t share words or feelings; but if Deran knew, he wouldn’t have done this to him.

508 hours. 8 minutes. 42 seconds.

Right?

Now he would never know. And to be honest, he didn’t care.

Out of sight. Out of mind.

They stayed quiet for a couple of minutes. Neither of them offered to say anything and both of them absorbed the silence.

“You sure you’re not hungry?” Adrian offered again, this time, he wasn’t surprised when J responded with a sigh: “I’m starving.”

508 hours. 15 minutes. 38 seconds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adrian always finds a way to break my heart. Is he breaking yours?


	6. Chapter 6

It is what it is  
—————

Craig was looking at him. It’s not like it’s here and there. Every time he would lean forward to take another sip of his beer or haphazardly glance at his phone, Adrian could feel Craig’s eyes on him. 

Pensiveness didn’t suit Craig; he was more of the indifferent guy until he recognized that he had to say something bluntly because it was necessary and not because it was appropriate.

He could say the most vile thing to someone and they could be standing in a cemetery. There was no filter on him not was there a conscientious effort to mask his words into something appropriate.

Adrian slowly glanced up, wondering whether Craig would suddenly divert his eyes- but, nope. If anything, his glare deepened. He fixated on him up to the point where Adrian could feel his skin crawling. 

“What.” He sighed; there was never any time in his life he felt comfortable with a pair of eyes on him but a determined pair of eyes on him? 

Craig shrugged his shoulders. His face contorted to one who was trying to be extremely sly in terms of expressing his thoughts. 

Again, pensiveness didn’t suit Craig.

Adrian could settle for no answer over an actual answer any day: sometimes, things were left better unsaid. Sometimes. 

Not all the time. Maybe, just this time. 

“You remember when we went to Cabo”, Craig wore this shit-eating grin on his face, as if the memory of it was too vivid and fresh, “your punk ass was so burnt because you couldn’t step out without turning beet reed.” 

He was a pale guy with freckles. His skin was extremely sensitive. Sue him for his physiological impediments. 

“Not really,” Adrian grabbed the bottle and took a larger sip. Of course he remembered; it felt like every day of his life, if he didn’t remember to put SPF, he was fucked the moment he stepped out. The irony that he even chose to stay in this place. 

“Bullshit,” Craig’s voice roared throughout the vista, “we couldn’t even take you anywhere because you looked like a goddamn tomato.” 

Adrian couldn’t help but smile. 

Cabo required that if one wanted to enjoy what the area had to offer, they had to be able to be outside to be able to have a fulfilling experience. He couldn’t do that when he felt like if a small bug, if it were to even slightly glaze his skin, he would melt into the earth and never come back. 

“Like the moron you are, you always forgot to SPF yourself, man!” 

Yes, he was an idiot. Some would argue he still was under his circumstances. Or if anyone could assess the choices he had made in the past couple of years, a reasonable observation to make was that, indeed, he was an idiot. 

“SPF, slowly peeling fuck,” Craig explained. 

Adrian shook his head and brought the tip of the bottle to his mouth, “that’s disgusting.” 

Craig snorted, “What’s disgusting is having to walk around with a shedding snake.” Craig reached for his shot glass and quaffed it down. 

Adrian watched as Craig cringed at the influx of the alcohol he indundated down his throat; even that was a beseeching site. Craig slammed his glass on the table, making no effort to be remotely quiet about it and motioned with his finger at the guy behind the counter for another one.

Craig swiped his hand roughly against his mouth and then proceeded to rub at his nose. He sniffed a couple of times and then ran both his hands through his hair before settling his palms on the table between us. 

“What’s your point?” Adrian blandly asked, suddenly off put by the beer he held in his hands. He felt like he was getting intoxicated watching Craig quaff the drinks. 

He shoved the beer bottle away from him and veered his chair away from the table and gave him some space to just be. 

“My point is,” he enunciated each word, nodding as the guy came beside Craig to place another glass of vodka, not even waiting to finish his thought before shoving the contents of the glass into his mouth. The same contorted facial expressions reappeared on his face but this time, he looked slightly inebriated. 

Adrian raised his eyes to indicate for him to continue but it went a missed as Craig motioned once more for another drink. 

“Craig.” 

Craig raised his palms out, “my point is,” he tried again, “we’re going back To Cabo” he proceeded to clasp his hands before untangling them and pointing his index fingers at Adrian, “and you’re coming.” 

Adrian didn’t even give himself a moment to think about it. The moment it came out of Craig’s mouth, he couldn’t fully absorb the ludicrousity of the proposition. 

“No.” He resolutely stated. 

No way. 

“Okay that’s not fair.” Craig began to frown but even then, it was the most unnervated one he’s ever seen. Craig looked like he was trying to hold the frown but he wasn’t able to maintain it.

Adrian watched once more as he scurried to dump the vodka into his mouth. 

“Slow down, man.” He suggested, as he glanced up at the bartender who was bringing the drinks, and indicated with a shake of his head, ‘no more’. 

The guy nodded back at him. 

“It’s midnight somewhere.” Craig shrugged.

Adrian snorted at the thought of it. Logic seemed to escape Craig when he involved himself in insipid activities but seemed to be useful to him when it defended his choices. Reminded him of-it reminded him of Deran.

902 hours. 38 minutes. 51 seconds. 

“Dudeee.” Craig stretched, placing one of his hands against his stomach and one curled up against his mouth as a burp escaped from his lips. 

Adrian cringed. But this was Craig. He just hasn’t been around him enough to this extent in the past couple of years. He remembered how he was but he never remembered the last time he had drinks with him outside of the Cody’s house. 

It was years ago. 

“What’s not fair, is you asking me that.” Adrian retorted, suddenly wondering when in time did Craig evolved from saying ‘fuck off’ to engaging in actual conversations. 

“Man. Don’t be like that. What? You’re gonna stay in Oceanside for the rest of your life?” 

Adrian frowned, “That’s beside the point. I do take vacations.” 

“Oh, right,” Craig mockingly slapped his temple with his palm, “Like when you left town a couple of days ago, by yourself.” He enunciated the word as if he was making a point. 

Adrian didn’t like where this was going. Not one bit.

“So what?” 

“So fuck you,” Craig barked, “you can’t just go to places by yourself and call that a vacation, man. You go with friends, you have fun, you do stupid shit and get crazy drunk. You enjoy shit with others. That’s part of what it means to be on a vacation.” 

He laid back as if he made his point. As if the validity in his argument was based off of the lone fact that being solo and away from Oceanside did not equate to having fun. 

“I needed to clear my head.” He responded. 

“Okay,” he nodded as if he understood, “Now you can have some fun.” 

He shook his head until it hurt , “No fucking way.” 

Craig frowned, looking away from Adrian for a brief second before making contact again, this time, he didn’t feign his attempt at expressing his frustration, “Stop being a stubborn shit. Okay, man?” 

He wasn’t being stubborn as he was being realistic. If he went with their entire family, that would always include Deran. How could Craig even ask him after everything? Was he that obtuse that he forgot that his brother, the guy whose made it no easy for him to perpetually exist in life, will always be apart of the same sentence, a tangential footnote, as family? 

But-Craig didn’t know. Even if he didn’t, he should have noticed that he hasn’t talked to his brother in fucking weeks. Didn’t that mean anything? 

902 hours. 42 minutes. 51 seconds. 

“I can’t.” He tasted bitterness in the back of his mouth. Going on a trip with him? With them? 

Fuck.

“Nooo,” he moved forward, “you won’t. There’s a difference.” 

Adrian shot his eyes up as the gravity of the diction sank in; Can’t versus won’t. Not wanting to do something explicitly meant that he had a choice in the matter. But when will anyone ever realize that when it came to Deran, he never felt like he had a choice. He can’t agree to his invite because he had always felt like he had been stripped of the opportunity to make a choice when it came to him. 

He can’t. Not because he wouldn’t but because he couldn’t. 

The idea of running into him fucking terrified Adrian. Would he cower despite his resolute convictions? Would he even want to behold the site of him? Does he? Did it matter? Should it matter? 

It’s one thing to conscientiously avoid a person. It’s another thing agreeing to be in the same vicinity as Deran when he’s made a fucking effort to not to. He hadn’t been to the shore whenever he knew they would go there. He never went to any party that he know more than two mutual friends would be there. He strayed away from the local bars if he could. He went to get food at the most odd times in the day.

Adrian wasn’t around him and yet Deran was fucking with his life without even lifting a finger. And that was the problem. When he was with him, it was hell. When he’s on his own, he’s still enduring hell. 

And Craig wanted him to be in the same place as his brother? What was between a internal hell and an external hell? Hell. An easy ingress into it. And that’s exactly what he would be signing up for if he were to go. 

It’s one thing to feel a certain way but to have to confront them in front of a person who had been the cause of it ? 

Fucking Christ. 

902 hours. 44 minutes. 7 seconds.

“Jesus,” Craig sighed as if he could read Adrian’s thoughts and lurched forward, “I hate to break it to you man, but you live in Oceanside. You live a couple of miles from my place. You have the same friends as him. You’re gonna have to get out of here if you think you can avoid him.” 

Craig paused and then moved back as if he was determined in making his point, “and so fucking what? You’re not gonna enjoy your life at the off chance you’re gonna see Deran? That’s stupid, man.” 

All he’s ever known was circumventing his life around Deran. He knew the larger scheme of things; his life wasn’t any better than it was since that night. He can’t seem to find anything to do to enjoy because he had lost the ability to find anything remotely fun. Surfing is fun, sure. Yet, he had been missing days just because he couldn’t find it in himself to ride a wave and only have that feeling be ephemeral.

He hated that having fun was fleeting to him. He wanted it to last and any activity that made it momentary made it that much more dissuading to partake in it.

He was tired of it. He just wished it would sustain itself for a long period of time.

He doesn’t remember the last time he was genuinely happy and he worried that he never would be.

And seeing Deran? The thought of it made Adrian’s blood curl. Looking at Deran? Having to hear his voice again? 

It felt like peeling a bandage off of a wound that had not completed healing. Pouring citric acid into an open cut. Having a rope tied around your neck and having the tip of your toes barely glazing the floor. It was way too fucking painful. It felt like he was barely alive. And being around Deran was just suffocating. Being around Deran was akin to falling off of a bridge, letting the current wash him away and have the tides shove him further and further into the water-except it kept happening over, and over, and over again.

That’s what did Deran did to him. He had stripped him off his choices and removed the possibility of ever being genuinely content. With his constant hot-and-cold demeanor; one moment he would give Adrian everything he ever wanted from him, the next, he would push him away as if nothing in the past ten years had ever meant anything to him. 

Adrian quietly snorted to himself. 

It couldn’t possibly have meant anything to Deran. 

“Think about it alright?” The tone in Craig’s voice was much more calmer, “we’re leaving mid-noon on Thursday.” 

Thursday. In two days. 

God, why was he even thinking about this ? 

“Maybe.” 

And yet, even as the word left his mouth, he knew it was a resounding no. 

902 hours. 49 minutes. 0 seconds.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has been reading; will update after the finale

The last time he felt so frazzled, someone wandered up behind him and covered his mouth. Adrian placed his hands against his desk and shoved his chair back, before frantically grabbing something-anything-off of his desk and turned to face the intruder.

It wasn't who he expected.

Pope.

Pope didn't blink an eye. He had his hands clasped in front of him, stance determined, a rather stoic expression on his face.

Adrian didn't know whether to yell because the possibilities of what this interaction could entail, are endless. Or whether to act stupid even though Pope trespassed into his place.

Stupid always worked. Stupid didn't negate his fear but it atleast would divert any unneeded attention.

"I knocked." He offered. As if that explained how he was able to get through his bolted doors. Pope knocked and Adrian couldn't hear it so it should be a reasonable reason to why he most likely broke his door-or window-or who knows.

Adrian nodded, grabbing the earphones out of his ears and placing them beside his keyboard. As his finger grazed the desk, he could feel the hair on the back of his neck protruding ; he felt his palms start to palpitate and he didn't think he could find the strength to stand up anymore.

Craig was one thing.

Smurf was one thing.

For fucks sake, Deran was one thing.

But Pope? Pope was a whole disparate field.

"What's up, man?" Adrian found himself asking.

Play it stupid. Play it cool. Be nonchalant. Play it stupid. He kept repeating the mantra in his mind until he found himself staring eye to eye with Pope.

There were at least a hundred brick walls between Pope's feelings and his expressions. He never could tell when Pope felt anything other than anger and for someone who just got out of jail, anger was reasonable but that being a constant way of expression? That was extremely unsettling.

Pope took a couple of steps forward; Adrian felt his breath hitch in his throat. Pope kept his eyes on Adrian but he reached behind him and tugged on a wire.

Adrian moved further to the edge of the opposite side of the room and watched as Pope grabbed the cord and unraveled it. Pope smoothed the dents in the wire and stretched it a couple of times before settling it back on the ground.

"You never smother your wires," he began, his voice offering no indication as to how he felt, "the signal won't be transmitted well and your lamp," he pointed at the one beside his computer, "will be damaged."

He nodded. Okay. He understood. Pope was more observant. To trivial things. Nonetheless, more observant. It mattered to him because it probably bothered him.

And indentations in his lamp cord wire bothered Pope.

Okay.

Pope wandered his eyes around Adrian's room, probably pinpointing the smallest issues with it. His clothes were haphazardly lying beside the stool of his bed. The sheets were unmade. But Pope could probably notice the specks of pizza crust on his mattress. The slightly angled poster on his wall. The half empty water bottles. The way he closed his backpack just enough but not completely.

He couldn't really verify whether it bothered Pope but when he made a move to get past Adrian to get out of his room, in some form, there was validation.

Adrian followed, but kept his distance when Pope stopped near the kitchen.

His kitchen on the other hand, was spotless. Adrian never used it. Pope should be extremely content standing there.

Then again, Adrian couldn't tell. He still wore this impassive look.

"So?" He tried again but he couldn't hide the fear he felt in his chest. His voice was shaky but he made sure to enunciate his last word as if to emphasize that as much as he felt timid, he felt prepared for whatever happened.

Pope couldn't possibly inflict any more pain than he already was enduring.

"It's 11:25."

Okay.

"I told-"

"We have to leave by 12." Pope interrupted him.

  
"Yeah, man." Adrian reached behind his neck and began to itch at the skin just beside his left shoulder, "I'm not really feeling up to it." Adrian knew that there was a half-truth to every lie. He did feel sick to his stomach at the thought of being around the family.

"Is your phone broken?"

Adrian didn't find the audacity to lie.

"No."

"Oh-Kay," Pope's voice was much more deeper, as if he was trying to deduce something from their conversation, "Craig said he called you five times."

"My battery must have died."

Pope looked at his feet, in the process, he arched his back which caused his arms to flex.

"That's convenient." Adrian could recognize that Pope was trying to test him. In a way, he could be the prick he was and dig out his cell and call Adrian's number. Or he could wait until Adrian blurted out the truth.

Truth be told. He knew Craig called. He silenced it the moment the second call came around.

Why couldn't he have just said that?

There were always half truths to every lie.

"We have to leave by 12," Pope looked at the watch on his hands and grazed his fingers over it, "you have about 34 minutes."

Adrian didn't know whether he could refuse. If he did, under what premise? His shop was closed by 4 on weekdays and 7 on weekends. Pope found him watching reruns on his computer. Adrian gave off the impression that he wasn't doing anything so the invitation was most likely closed and non-negotiable.

Fuck.

"Look-"

"You know, I don't like relaying messages." Pope interrupted, his tone shifting. He was angry. Definitely angry.

Pope had a spectrum of angry and Adrian hoped that it was well below the point where Pope would want to shove him into a wall.

Adrian noticed his knuckles whiten as he clutched onto the fabric of his shorts as Pope shoved his face close to his face, most probably an inch away.

He braced himself.

Pope's eyes were frantically searching all over Adrian's face; it felt like he was the prey being assessed by a predator at a close proximity.

"Next time, keep your phone charged."

Adrian just watched. He watched as Pope maintained his posture. He watched as Pope seared into his eyes. He waited for a while before Pope leaned back and retreated towards the door, which was surprisingly unbroken.

And left.

How the fuck did he get in?

\----  
Adrian tried to juggle his phone between his ear and his his shoulder as he shoved his closet doors open; it was tiny, maybe even smaller than his entire arms' length. It was relatively neat; shorts on the plyer, shirts on the hanger, other shit somewhere in the empty space beside his jeans.

"Pick up. Pick up." Adrian kept muttering to himself, as he grabbed the duffel bag that was creased into a corner.

He began to smooth the wrinkles on the bag and then threw it on his bed. Adrian walked backwards from the closet until his back found the mattress of the bed and he laid down.

Fucking Christ.

"Yo." Craig's voice roared through the phone, "I've been trying to call you-"

"I told you I'm not fucking coming, Craig." Adrian felt his blood boiling. He wanted to scream until his lungs collapsed. He wanted to punch something-anything- until his body was completely dead.

"I know. But you did say maybe." Craig laughed which made Adrian grab at his cell a little bit harder.

"So you send Pope to make it crystal clear that a maybe is a yes?"

Adrian could hear Craig shuffling, "What," a small pause,"I didn't send Pope, dude."

What.

"Then why the fuck was he here in my place, telling me that I-"

"I don't know, man." Craig cut him off, "I don't _know_."

Adrian waited a minute to just think. He found himself trying to level his breathing and get it under some control. He was close enough to sound like a wheezing and rasping animal so he decided to close his eyes to just concentrate.

Get it together. Get it together.

"What do you mean you don't know?" His voice was much more controlled but he would be lying if he didn't hear the strain in his voice.

Adrian heard as Craig took a deep breath, "I don't know, man," Craig repeated as if that was all he could offer, "Pope said he was going out to get some last minute shit."

Last minute shit.

Last minute shit?

Adrian glanced at the clock above his door, "He said he would be back in a couple of minutes dude."

Adrian heard Craig mutter a couple of words but they were incoherent, "Just," he began before growling, "don't worry about it."

"I told you, I'm not-"

"I heard you the first fucking time, man," Craig sounded just as confused as the situation was, "I'm gonna call Pope and see what's up, okay?"

Adrian heard the buzz of the dial tone and moved his cell away from his ear.

Shit.

It wouldn't have mattered what Craig were to do. If Pope came to tell him to get his shit ready by noon, Adrian knew that he had to get his shit ready by noon.

'I don't like to relay messages.'

Adrian rubbed at his face; what the fuck did Pope mean by that? Relay whose message?

Adrian found himself staring into his closet.

He didn't have much to wear and he didn't want to think too much about what he wore. What difference did it make?

Here he was , having to go to Cabo because he couldn't find himself questioning Pope which was akin to rattling a virile animal. He didn't refute because Pope could smell bullshit from a mile away. He couldn't say 'I don't want to' because he would instigate him.

He had to go. He was inconspicuously forced to go.

Adrian's eyes focused on the plaid shirt that was shoved deep behind his hoodies and grabbed it. It was almost a subconscious action because he knew that if he shoved it so deep in his closet, that there was a reason he did.

Fuck.

Deran's shirt.

He wiped his hand across the fabric and held it a distance away.

Strangely enough, despite it being with Adrian for years, he could still remember the scent of him.

Adrian let out a shallow breath and buried his face in his free hand, tightly clutching onto the plaid shirt in the other.

He had to go to that place now. Mentally he had to refocus and recalibrate himself. There was no way he could even remotely step into that house if he had the mentality that he did now.

He was tired, frustrated, anxious- tired, frustrated, anxious. It was a repetition which deprived him of feeling anything else. He didn't feel sad anymore because his pain always dulled that emotion. He didn't feel anger anymore because it was exhausting having to be angry about a situation he never had control over.

He was just tired, anxious, frustrated.

Frustrated that despite how tired and anxious he felt, there seemed to be nothing he could do about it. He was anxious because when he wanted to stop feeling so hollow, his attempts were futile. He's tired constantly because if he's not fighting his frustration, he's fighting his anxiety.

Mentally, he was drained. Physically, he was extremely weak. Emotionally, it used to a cement wall between his thoughts and the world; now, there were shards of glass between his mind and this world.

Vulnerable.

He was fucking vulnerable.

It was unacceptable to be fragile and vulnerable around them.

He pressed his fingers into his forehead until he felt the pressure evaporate into his skull.

He needed to focus. He had to-as much as he felt like vomiting at the thought of it- he had to do what he needed to do to get through this.

He had to lie to himself.

_'You're okay. If you're not okay now, you're going to be okay. You're going to be-'_

"- _okay. I just want us to be okay. I just want it to be okay," Adrian breathed hard as Deran looked away from him as his voice began to shake, "Please. Please_."

He whimpered in the silent room and pressed his fingers further into his head.

It would have been a lie to perpetuate this idea that it was going to be okay. It was never okay and pretending that it was, fuck. That wasn't going to fix anything. In fact-

"- _You can't make me feel something I don't, man." Adrian found himself saying, watching as Deran cowered his head away from the light so that Adrian couldn't see the wetness around his eyes_.

_Everything about them was deeply rooted in a fantasy, in a-_

Lie.

The mantra could never work.

He didn't have to repeat it again because it felt like an impasse. It wasn't going through his head. It felt like, subconsciously, it wasn't good enough to be just okay.

He had to be more than okay. It had to be a visceral feeling and lying would only make the shards of glass that much more broken and that much more apparent.

Adrian lifted his head up, peering at the shirt in his other hand.

He leaned forward-

_Until Deran grabbed him by his wrist and they scurried through the alley. They both were stupid and callously grabbed a couple of nerf guns from the convenient store. Deran was more courageous than him and Adrian felt it was an opportunity for him to showcase that he was just as brave as him._

_So he agreed._

_Both were lucky enough that the water guns were outside on a shack; Adrian was promoted to be the watcher. Deran assured him that his contribution was as important as the actual action of stealing. Adrian felt convinced._

_When the moment came, Adrian mumbled a harsh 'Go,' which led Deran to grab two of the guns. Unfortunately for them, one was stuck in the groove of the metal ledge._

_"What?" Adrian questioned, as the noise from behind him was loud enough for the guy at the front to pause in mid if the conversation he held with the person he was talking to._

_"It's stuck, man." Adrian quickly turned around and looked at Deran before rising on his toes and helping Deran nudge the the groove out of the clasp._

_Just in the nick of time, the nerf gun was loose and both of them dashed away. They could hear the man screaming for them- his voice was getting closer, as it became very apparent that he was chasing after them._

_Deran was ahead of Adrian by at least 200 yards. He was always faster than him. He had longer legs and this wasn't Deran's first time doing something of this sort. As much as he would have thought it was wrong to steal, Deran always had a way with words in making something morose seem alright. Something Adrian found admiring. Deran was-_

A complete dick. He had a way with words because he was good at manipulating the situation to appease him. Adrian couldn't recognize it at first because having Deran's sole attention on him felt like he had the best friend that he had hoped for.

Deran was a selfish prick. When he first realized, it was too late. They had come back from Belize; sometimes he wished they never had. But that wasn't reality. That was a reprieve which Deran brought him on.

It started with a couple of fucks here and there. He hadn't had given much thought about it because Deran was still the same, except some days, Deran would be shoving his tongue down his throat and grabbing his crotch until one of them came.

It was only when he started to notice, when he took a step back to really asses what the actual fuck they were doing that he realized that what they were doing didn't comprise of a commitment but of of a bullshit understanding.

That they would occasionally have sex behind closed doors and the rest of the time, they would resume being just Adrian and Deran. Their relationship never progressed because Deran never let it happen.

Their conversations never evolved. It was still about the same shit. If there were good waves, if they were hungry, if they wanted to go out to a party.

They were never about emotions. They never exchanged that and for some fucking reason, Adrian believed it was because it was implicitly understood what they had. It was special and as long as he didn't do anything to fuck it up, it will continue to be special.

It wasn't a typical relationship, he would tell himself, but that was only because Deran wasn't a typical guy, he would keep repeating.

That's what he told himself.

Because he was a fucking idiot.

Because he wanted to believe that there was no way-

_That they could possibly get away._

_They were cornered. There was a high metal fence between them and the man who was chasing him, was getting louder and louder._

_Adrian turned to look at Deran, who started nibbling on his nails. His forehead was creased and he focused on what was in front of him. Adrian couldn't find it within himself to interrupt his train of thoughts. Despite the anxiousness that arose within him as the yells were close to the point where he started to wonder if he was prepared to get arrested._

_Before he could even began to process that, Deran shoved a nerf gun into his chest and motioned him with his eyes to look at the crevice behind the fence._

_Before Adrian could even articulate his thoughts, Deran crouched on the ground and looked back at him before hissing a 'Come on!'_

_Adrian ran and placed both his hands on Deran's back and lifted himself up. He held the nerf gun under his pit and reached for the edge of the wall for some support. Deran surged him up, which provided enough force for Adrian to lift himself onto the protruding well._

_He placed the nerf gun beside him and reached his arm out to help Deran._

_"Get over here you little shits!" Deran flipped his head to focus on the man who halted at the beginning of the alley. He paused momentarily before picking up his speed to catch up to them._

_Adrian stretched his arm even further._

_Deran arched his back and with a tremendous force, throwing the gun over Adrian._

_He watched as Deran took a could of steps back and then sprinted before he lunged into the air before grabbing Adrian's hands._

_"Pull me up!" Deran struggled to clasp onto his hands. Adrian shoved his feet in a tighter grasp, and pulled until he grabbed Deran's elbow and used it as a force to level him up._

_Deran took the opportunity to-_

-slither his way out of everything. Adrian didn't link an eye because he wanted to believe that it was hard for Deran to not only reciprocate but to articulate his feelings.

He gave him the benefit of the doubt. He always fucking gave him that because he wanted to believe that there was no way Deran would be the way he was; distant when he wanted to be, prudish and insulting when he didn't have things go his away- because he wanted to believe that Deran just didn't know.

Deran didn't know how to express himself with anything other than anger because he was a Cody. That was always his excuse anyway. He was always-

_Brave. Brave for the both of them. Deran wiped his sleeve against the gash on his leg. He bent down to grab the nerf gun he threw and grinned as he looked up at Adrian, "That was insane!"_

_Adrian felt the adrenaline rush._

_It was insane._

_Deran pumped his fist in the air and started to retreat toward the back gate and bellowed Adrian to follow with his fingers._

_So he followed, the water gun against his chest, his feet and arms aching but the feeling was good-made him feel tough, made him feel-_

Like the coward he was, Adrian reached for his duffel bag and walked towards his closet.

951 hours. 28 minutes. 52 seconds.

\---

Adrian waited outside of his place, sitting on the ledge with his duffel bag beside him. He checked the time on his clock every moment he felt like time was perpetually slowing down.

11:44. 11:44. And mere seconds later, it was still 11:44.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter, whisking the cigarette into his mouth and matching up the end.

Time was not only perpetually slower, it felt like it just stopped. He felt lethargic and at the same time, he was keenly aware of his surroundings. The streets were quiet, there were no other noises. If there were, it became rather monotone. The grass beside his hand was grazing in the same direction it was just a mere second ago.

Everything just stopped.

So he began to count, so he didn't feel like he was slowly going to lose his mind just waiting.

One, two, three-

_"Four days," Deran kicked at the stone in front of him, "what? They're trying to fucking showcase you or something?"_

_Adrian smiled._

_"It's just four days."_

_Deran grunted beside him. Adrian stretched his foot until it came into contact with Deran's leg. With the sudden contact, Deran looked up at him and frowned._

_"I'll be back before you know it," Adrian reassured, "Smurf's probably going to have you busy anyway." He felt the need to continue, as Deran's frown didn't wipe away from his face._

_Adrian tugged on Deran's arm until Deran settled himself on the ground, legs crossed, arms to his side, the frown only deepening into a growl. Deran kept looking at the ground._

_"Probably." It was so quiet , Adrian almost missed it. But they were sitting behind his shop, drinks in his hand, in the dark, where there was no one except the sounds of the air breezing past them._

_"Hey," Adrian whispered._

_Deran grabbed the beer bottle and took a big sip. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his sweatshirt before taking another sip._

_Adrian watched as Deran placed the bottle beside him and then started to play with the strings hanging off of his hoodie. He tugged and tugged onto the strings until he raveled them into tight curls. As there was nothing left for him to tug on, he shoved his hand through his hair and stopped short before looking up at Adrian._

_Deran looked unsettled. He looked like he wanted to say something but bit the words back. At that moment, Adrian wished Deran would just say it because he couldn't read minds. He wanted to know what Deran wanted to say more than anything because he wanted to help Deran._

_Adrian wanted to wipe the frown off of his face. The way he tucked his head when he was frustrated. He wanted to make him feel better and another four days away from Deran wasn't going to be of much help._

_As he went to fill the silence with some comforting words, Deran leaned forward until his lips were on Adrian's. Deran grabbed him by the back of his head and pushed him deeper into the touch but before it could go anywhere, Deran pulled away and settled his forehead against Adrian's._

_"Four days." Deran repeated, as if it was more to assuage his thoughts than Adrian's._

_Adrian nodded, it was just-_

Three minutes. Only three minutes had passed by.

He was surprised at how fast he lifted his head up when he heard the distant honking from a car. The sound was very generic but there was a nuance to it that he could recognize anywhere.

He saw the black wrangler, Craig precociously waving at him from the driver's seat. He turned to notice Pope sitting beside him and when he squinted his eyes, he noticed J's curls sticking out from behind the front seats.

As he lifted himself off of the ground, he grabbed the duffel bag and threw it over his shoulder, clutching onto it as it was his only source of balance.

"Hey, Adrian," Craig rolled his window down as he pulled up beside him and then glanced at the bag he carried, "that's it?"

Adrian nodded.

Craig shrugged as he motioned with his hands to dump it in the back, "the less shit, the better."

Adrian found it hard to just move. But he could also feel not only Craig eye's on him but two other pairs of eyes on him. As if the very next move he made would somehow validate their preconceived notions.

So he just nodded and walked towards the back and rested his hand against the trunk. He noticed familiar bags; some skateboards, a couple of water jugs, basic shit.

But what he was slow to notice was the awfully tinted teal truck that pulled up behind him and rested in park mode. He didn't know until he saw Craig sticking his head out from the window to yell, "We're two minutes out, man."

He hesitated a moment; Adrian could either just close the trunk. Walk to the side and just open the door and sit inside. Or he could just close the trunk, sprint to the door, yank it open and sit inside.

It was a matter of how slow or fast he wanted to do one thing.

As he slipped his bag beside the other bags and then shut the trunk close, he was suddenly surprised by the pull of gravity. He found himself turning around to face the truck behind him.

Fuck.

He felt some sort of pull that he couldn't quite put his finger in. As he turned, he glanced briefly at the sight in front of him but then looked away just as quickly.

Fuck.

He took a long drag and let the wisp of smoke permeate his vision.

"Dude." Adrian looked to his side, focused on Craig who had his palm rested against the door handle. Craig then clasped the notch and tugged it open and motioned for him to sit down.

His feet had a mind of their own as he began to trudge into the truck but as he had one foot in, he felt the pull again.

It was even more forcible than before.

So he tilted his head to look at Deran- to actually look at him.

And felt his breath hitch when he found Deran looking right back at him.

0 hours. 0 minutes. 0 seconds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was long. Oops.

The drive was long, but more than that, it was unusually familiar. If Craig wasn't bickering about Pope's demeanor, he was muttering within an earshot about everything else.

"Fuck the sandwich."

"I don't want to listen to that shit, man."

"It's wrapped up, dude! Nothing is spilling on you is _it_?"

"Come on, why the hell do you people even drive?"

"I gotta take a leak."

Somewhere between all his incessant outbursts, Pope, the one who looked ready to rip the steering wheel out of the shaft and throw it out the window, grabbed the door notch on the wrangler and stepped outside; they were waiting in the traffic at the main strip, an ingress to Cabo but had to take a slight detour because of a leak on the AA, to subside.

The alternative was longer but there were less impediments to their destination. Traffic was something they couldn't avoid. But it wasn't as bad.

At first, J, who was pretty much dead to the world the entire ride, jolted in his seat but even he immediately caught himself and resumed back to facing the window, his hand underneath his neck.

They all watched as Pope walked to the back of the trunk, looked away at nothing in particular, swayed his head a couple of times and then proceeded to open the passenger door of the truck behind us.

Adrian didn't wait to see how Deran reacted.

"Crazy motherfucker." Craig muttered under his breath, but because the silence was immensely tangible within the jeep, his words did not go unnoticed or unheard.

"Either of you want to move up?" Adrian could see Craig raising his brow through the rear-view mirror.

J, who pretty much had nothing to say the entire ride, positioned himself higher in his seat, nudging off his sweatshirt in the process.

"Did you hear back from Baz?" He asked.

Craig shrugged, and then he said nothing. He looked back several times, tried to make it look inconspicuous but being sly wasn't Craig's middle name.

Obtuse, on the other hand.

"Is Baz okay?" Adrian felt prompted to ask but was slightly disappointed when he was met with a nimble nod and a 'mhm' from J.

Okay.

He didn't feel the need to ask them to elaborate. Sometimes some things were better unknown. Some things should never have to be unearthed from the ground because there will come a time where one can't shove it back into its crevice.

But the enigma surrounding the ambiguity quickly vanished when they pulled into the parking lot to a gas station.

They were all leaning against the jeep, Adrian paying particular attention to Deran-who for the most part couldn't even lift his head up even when Craig engaged in a conversation with him.

Whatever they were talking about, Craig made sure to pull Deran further away from him and J, his voice was a bare minimum. The sun blazing down upon him, Adrian didn't even bother to try to listen in on their conversation. His focus diverted as he felt his skin prickling.

Adrian turned to J, to refocus, and noticed that the kid had barely touched the contents in the wrap; the stale chips were untouched, the condiment packets, unopened.

"You okay?"

J whipped his head around, as if someone had interrupted his thoughts. The crease that appeared on his forehead and around his eyes but then just as quickly disappeared, had Adrian wondering whether this trip was not a reprieve but something more.

Goddamn.

Before he could even ask, Pope, who Adrian didn't even notice had wandered off, reappeared but he motioned Craig and Deran to move even further away. Pope had his phone between his fingers, a rather purpose to his stride-something was going on.

"J, what's going on?" Adrian asked, his eyes focused on the three of them as they began to crowd near a stall at the back of the store. Pope spoke for a bit and as soon as he finished, Craig had his arms raised in the air, an almost frustrated look etched across his face.

Deran on the other hand, looked pensive. He began to nibble on his finger as Craig continued to react to whatever Pope had to say.

" _J_."

J pushed himself off of the truck, sighing as he walked in front of Adrian; Adrian didn't need to have eyes to recognize that Something was off. Extremely off.

"Cat's missing."

Adrian couldn't help but lean forward.

" _What_?" Suddenly the bread he was chewing was even more stale than he recalled, "for how long?"

He was quickly met with a frown, "it's been a couple of weeks."

"Weeks?" Adrian hissed, "is Baz looking for her?" There was something seriously wrong Adrian concluded. It was the way everyone held themselves , the usual idiocity was apparent but there was a bit of tension to everything they did. He couldn't recognize it then because he was preoccupied with his less than desirable circumstances but now that he thought about it-  
.

Craig had a temperament; they all did. But his constant jibes and groaning remarks were more than usual, as if he conveyed his frustration with Cat's disappearance and translated that into his outbursts. Seemed like something Craig would do.

Pope was even more impassive than he recalled. Pope had his idiosyncratic pet peeves but it felt like his bullshit parameter not only lengthened in size but increased in how much shit had to occur in order for him to actually let it bother him-

_Fuck_

Which explained why after hours driving, did Pope leave the wrangler and sat in the one Deran was driving.

Cat was missing.

What the hell are they doing here?

Adrian knew better than to ask but he would rather have his doubts be validated than be left doubtful.

"And the cops?" He asked in a prelude, not wanting J to have to defend the Cody's in any form for something they most likely did not do: call the cops to inform them of her disappearance.

In either instance, Adrian didn't know whether J would feel the need to defend that family but if Smurf had reinforced anything in verbatim to her sons, or those she's taken in, is that they must always protect the fucking family.

No cops was an implicit conjunction to that rule.

"Baz thinks it might be someone he had worked with in the past who is trying to," J shrugged as if the mere thought of it was just too shameful, not for him but for Baz, "I don't know. Mess around with him."

For weeks though? Adrian knew better than to inform J of the conundrum in that presumption. If it was someone who had some form of altercation with Baz, it wouldn't have taken this long for Cat to return.

This wasn't a revenge story gone bad. This was a whole another ball game.

“Pope thinks she just left.”

That wasn’t Cat.

“And leave Lena behind?” The incredulity in his voice was apparent. J shrugged his shoulders as he tugged on the seal of the wrap.

"So Cabo is?"

J grabbed a bottle off of the hood, "a joke. " he filled in, the annoyance in his voice could not be missed. Adrian turned to look back at the three of them huddled in the corner, his perception altered only slightly under the jarring circumstances.

"Why am _I_ here then?" He couldn't help but ask. If this was their respite for the shit going on in their family, what the actual hell was he doing here accompanying them-

"I have no idea why I'm here," J supplied, "wouldn't have a clue as to why you're here."

Adrian nodded. It was a reasonable answer.

A part of him wanted someone to just be up front with him but a part of him wished J never told him anything. Cat was-Catherine was different. She wasn't them as much as Adrian wasn't a Cody. She just happened to have Lena who happened to have a father who was adopted by Smurf.

Her misfortune for having ever met Baz.

Adrian's misfortune for having ever met this family.

They were both always in the same predicament but in many ways, the levels of complexity varied. Cat bore Baz his child and in many ways, she probably did love him.

Adrian's situation was always hazy. To the world, Deran and him were best friends. To each other, they were something that neither of them ever ascribed a label to.

Cat was Baz's partner.

Adrian was Deran's friend.

Baz, if anything, cared about Lena and Cat.

Deran cared about what Smurf thought of him.

Baz most likely loved Cat.

Deran, at most, liked Adrian.

Maybe he even l-

No way.

"Lena's with Smurf." Adrian stated. The thought of that made Adrian bristle. He had once heard about Julia but even that was a terse statement damaging her character.

She was an addict.

She was out of touch with reality as a result.

She couldn't keep her legs closed even if they were tied.

She would fuck anyone and anything that could breathe.

Adrian didn't know Julia. But he knew her demise was inextricably tied to Smurf. Had to be. There was no other way. The common denominator for all these people's problems was Smurf.

The thought of Lena being even being in the same room as Smurf made him want to puke.

Goddamn it.

"Yeah." J's voice was just as leveled as Adrian expected.

He doesn't like the idea of it, too.

Adrian shifted slightly as he watched Craig approaching them. He wanted to actually punch anything in the vicinity but concentrated on the sun rays seeping through his skin and the imminent burn he knew he would have to take care of.

Adrian, never failed to forget to SPF himself.

"Yo," Adrian hissed as Craig clamped his shoulders, lurching them both forward, "What you guys talking about?"

Adrian dug the soles of his slipper into the pavement, to steady himself as Craig's added weight leveled him off his balance. Craig-who for all intensive purposes had his grip around Adrian relatively tight-even he couldn't seem to hold his grip as Adrian found himself kneeling to the ground.

Anyone looking from the outside in could surmise Adrian's lack of coordination or stability as pathetic and even he was aware of it as he extended both his arms out, palms flexed, ready for impact.

What he didn't expect was to have someone grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Their fingers grazed his shoulder as he felt the tug stop him from falling. A hand reached underneath Adrian's pit and provided him a level of support as he regained his composure.

His knees were still buckled but he didn't feel as much in free fall as he did about a couple of seconds ago. Adrian reached his arm back to grasp onto the metal door for some leverage.

As he flattened his hand against the truck, Adrian winced as he was pulled up.

Adrian glanced at the cool fingers grazing against his upper hip and it didn't take him even a mere second to recognize those familiar extremities.

His eyes wandered until he found himself staring at the brown tinted sandals. He watched as Deran's toes curled-in and out, in and out-

Adrian tore his eyes away and pushed away as the unsettling feeling began to brew in his throat. His throat felt extremely dry, as if the crumbs morphed into pins that etched into the tissue of his throat.

 

He didn't know how it felt to have needles protruding into his flesh but he sure as hell couldn't find the strength to swallow the slight discomfort stuck in his throat.

_Fuck._

"I can always count on you to be fucking lame, man." Craig leaned towards Adrian but kept his distance. His voice made it somewhat easier to concentrate but Adrian didn't think he had anymore resolve to do so.

Adrian could feel Deran’s presence beside him. He had his back to Deran but the silence was so daunting that he could feel his heart pounding against his chest. Adrian moved one hand and clenched onto his shirt, grazing his fingers over the thumping to level it off.

He rubbed until the throbbing was replaced by an ache.

"Alright, let's get out of here," Craig muttered, briefly glancing back at Pope who had already taken a seat in the teal-tinted truck. Craig shook his head and chuckled, as if the reason behind it was something only he was aware of.

J, who had pretty much stood where Adrian remembered last, walked beside him and gave him a slight nod.

The kid, as much as he tried, Adrian could see right through him. J reminded Adrian of him. Trying to put on a facade that if shit wasn't okay, he damn well was going to make sure no one else could see it.

"You okay?"

He wasn't. He really wasn't.

Adrian glanced at Deran, briefly. But he wasn’t where he last remembered. He had a foot in the driver’s seat, his head arched, his hair flailing as he positioned himself in his seat. Adrian felt the ache spread until he felt like there wasn’t truly anything mentally keeping him afloat.

He was worn out.

"Tired," Adrian offered.

J looked over Adrian's shoulder and then back at him, "M'sorry." His voice was barely a whisper; Adrian had heard enough apologies in his lifetime to recognize the word as soon as it left J's mouth.

Adrian frowned.

For what?

But he couldn't find it within himself to ask.

Somethings were better left unknown.

\----

All five of them ended up on the strip near Land's end. There were plenty of dive sites in the Sea of Cortez and Craig-who with much disdain had remarked that he had enough with the driving and was ready to just have some fun-pulled into a motel lot.

Adrian didn't know the extent of the planning that went into this entire trip but he deduced that it was insufficient when Craig recommended that they just seize the day and do whatever. That whatever implied that as much as Adrian wanted to be comforted by the fact that there would be at least a wall of separation between him and the rest of them, they most likely didn't even book a place to stay in.

Adrian wondered whether his neck could handle anymore strain than he was already under but shoved it out of his mind when the alternative was to actually complain about it.

The quieter he was, the more likely it was that none of them would even remember that he was there with them.

His neck could take another beating.

His back, on the other hand.

Pope on the other hand, walked up to them and shoved a key into their chests. There was no bullshit or full-assed attempt to be cunning- each of them get their separate rooms. They all made a break to retrieve their bags from the trucks and check their rooms.

5 minutes tops.

Adrian grabbed his bag and walked towards the stairs. He wandered his eyes until until he laid upon the number '152'. As he took a turn at the end of the top staircase, he noticed how far in distance everyone's rooms were. Pope walked around back, J was on the opposite side of him, Craig and Deran were both somewhere in the bottom floor but they were rooms apart.

It didn't relieve him as much as it worried him.

It all just seemed so purposeful.

But he didn't let his thoughts cloud his mind. He had less than two minutes. He didn't even walk around his room; felt that the four walls would suffocate his mind-so he dumped his bag haphazardly on the floor, threw his sweatshirt on a chair and then walked back out.

Soon they all made their way to the pier. The night life was as expected; there were enough bright lights to blind Adrian. Even he couldn't fathom how it possibly could have been even nighttime when the light from the stores and lamps illuminated the dark skies.

His skin was cooling down and a part of him felt relieved that he didn't feel like he was being cooked alive. As soon as his wandering eyes located some SPF, he walked into the shop and paid for it.

J followed him.

The man behind the counter grabbed the pencil he had tucked behind his ear and wrote '133 pesos' on the sheet of paper.

Pesos.

Adrian shoved his hand into his pocket and felt the coins grazing against his fingers.

There were dimes and quarters. No pesos. He hadn't thought that far out.

"I got it." J grabbed a couple of cien bills and counted until the exact amount was paid. Adrian grabbed the bottle as J turned his back to him and began to walk out the store.

Adrian followed.

"Thanks." He sighed as he caught up in pace beside J, who didn't look like he wanted to engage in a conversation. Then again, his slanted shoulders, his pacing and the way he arched his back as if the very idea of not talking to someone would make him explode-it was all things Adrian was familiar with.

He remembered emulating those same mannerisms when he didn't know who he could talk to.

Sometimes Adrian wondered whether there was a mirror between J and him and all he was seeing was a reflection of his sixteen year old self.

In pain.

Anguished.

Frustrated.

Yearning for help but not knowing how to ask it without being completely ignored.

"Before you even say that you're fine," Adrian sighed as he shoved the bottle into his shorts' pocket, "I want you to know that you can tell me," he turned his head to focus on the other three who weren't too far away from them both, " _anything_."

J didn't respond. So they continued to walk in silence.

Adrian redirected his attention to the amount of people that were still out. The last time he was in Cabo with them, he was maybe fourteen. Almost ten years ago. Back then, he enjoyed doing the same stupid shit that they did but somewhere along the way, the consequences of their actions weighed much more heavily on Adrian than it did on any of the other guys.

He watched as people walked past him, some who with the lack of any extra space to move, pushed past him but whispered an apology as they went by-

Their emotions were almost too invigorating. The excitement and jovial aura became too visceral. As if it was seeping into his mind and made him loosen up.

For the first time the entire day, he found himself actually breathing. His throat wasn't clogged, his chest wasn't tight. The air was cool, the night was barely even recognizable. There were people laughing and smiling and it was too contagious.

Adrian found the corners of lips breaking into a smile.

And he genuinely felt like he wanted to smile.

"I think you're skin is going to blister." Adrian turned to his other side to focus on J, who somehow had a smile plastered on his face. It wasn't as apparent but it was obvious to Adrian when all he had seen was an impassive look on him, the entire ride.

"I'm used to it." Adrian waved it off. He could feel some surfaces of his skin conglomerating into rougher patches; which eventually developed into these white, similar to crackings in freshly laid out pavement, replacing the redness.

Eventually, if he didn't expose his skin to any further sunlight, he would heal. It would be painful but stupidity always had consequences.

"You would think I would learn," Adrian found himself saying as they turned into a corner that was even more brighter and packed than the one they were just walking on.

They paused as they searched for the familiar heads and then resumed walking when they both recognized Craig, who already had a drink in his hand and was engaging in a conversation with some girls.

Adrian's eyes wavered until he found Pope, who had taken seat at a table under a Havana, beside Craig. He was on his phone but the beer bottle wasn't far away.

Adrian couldn't help it when his eyes wandered to search for Deran. As soon as he recognized that he was looking for a guy wearing a plaid shirt, those familiar shorts with that tied up hair, he clenched his hands into a fist until he redirected his attention to the aching that rose up on his knuckles.

"Adrian."

He stopped.

What he failed to recognize was that both him and J already had approached the table that Pope was sitting at. Pope wasn't on his phone any longer and he had his arms extended out, as if there was a purpose to it.

Pope pointed at the chair that was in front of Adrian and motioned for him to sit down.

And so he did.

"Get us a beer." Pope stoically muttered as he had his eyes on Adrian, notioning J his task. J, who had his hands on the back of the chair, stopped. He had his hands clutching onto the wood, his breathing was much more shallow-

Something was palpable but Adrian couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly.

"Are your feet not working?" Pope's voice cut through the tangible air. J, who seemed at an impasse, just as quickly found his composure and Adrian watched as he retreated.

Adrian was suddenly ungrateful for the bright lights. There was no way he could avoid how Pope just stared at him. He could even see the way his eyes enlargened, the way his jaw was tight and the way he leaned forward as if , not only was there an intent in what he had to say, but there was a warning to look forward to.

Adrian dug his fingers into his palms-

Just as quickly did he find himself smiling about a mere second ago, he was just as quickly wiping it away and replacing it with something more dejected and weary.

He was tired.

"Pinyon Pines." The voice cut through his exhaustion.

What.

His eyes shot up.

_What._

"I drove by there once," Pope pulled out a bag of chips and tore upon the seal, "it's a nice place. Not much to do there." Pope shoved a chip into his mouth and chewed, "Not much to do there.”

"Sure." Even Adrian was surprised at how leveled his voice was when all he wanted to do was just somehow not have this conversation.

How the _fuck_ did-

Pope shrugged, "Cabo is a little too loud," his voice was hoarse, "I like it a little quieter.” A pause. “You?”

Adrian knew better than to ask him if he was following him because it was a rhetorical question. If Pope wanted to know something, he always found a way to find it out.

What he wanted to know why was Pope keeping tabs on him.

He made it somehow his goal to go through his life as invisible as possible and for him to have to somehow wrap his mind around the fact that he wasn't as concealed as he would like made him want to-

There was no reason to know where the fuck he was.

No reason whatsoever.

"I like to give everyone a chance." Pope had his arms crossed across his shoulder, "sometimes two. If I've known them long enough." He had his lips tightly sealed, rubbing his back against the chair.

"I don't give third chances." His voice wavered off, "I don't see what's the point."

Okay.

"Yeah."

Pope nodded, as if that was all to it. That his point was made. He flattened both his palms out in front of him, across the cloth on the table and seamed his fingers through the small creases on it.

As he began to loosen them up, he shook his head as if he another point to make. He wore this look that if Adrian didn't know him better, he would have to be very careful with how he responded.

"I've known you for ten years Adrian," Pope began, as he employed more force everytime he kneeded his fingers through a crease, "ten years is a long time. I believe it's long enough for us to," he tapped his finger against the edge of the table, "to be able to trust each other."

Trust.

Seemed like a double edge sword.

Adrian nodded.

“I trust _you_.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"I trust that you and," he resumed to graze his fingers across the cloth, " _Deran_ will always be friends."

Not really.

No.

"L-"

"You know I don't like when people I trust, lie either."

Adrian swallowed his words.

"Ten years is a long time." Pope restated. Adrian knew it as well.

If Adrian knew anything, it was that this family would go to lengths to always do what was best for the family.

The family.

Smurf, Baz, Pope, Craig and Deran.

He knew enough shit to know the lengths they would go through to protect each other from any interloper.

Outsiders were never easily welcomed and insiders were never easily let go of.

"Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Deran was his brother.

Adrian was supposed to be his friend.

Pope expected him to always be his friend.

Nothing should change that.

Nothing.

Adrian tore his eyes away and held them to face somewhere where there wasn't as much light to notice the way his eyes glistened. The gravity of this conversation was something Adrian was slowly starting to absorb and time couldn't eradicate the pain.

It seemed as if distance couldn't either.

_"I hate to break it to you man, but you live in Oceanside. You live a couple of minutes away from my place. You have the same friends as him. If you're trying to avoid him, you're gonna have to move."_

_Fuck._

His vision blurred and he felt his hands shaking. He grabbed onto his shorts to steady himself; he let out a low sigh and waited for the burning sensation in his eyes to subside.

Craig was right.

Pope was right.

How long did he think it would take before any one of them somehow showed him the intricacy of his situation? For fuck's sake-he lived in goddamn Oceanside a good part of his life.

And somehow, his life had become revolved around one guy. It was inextricably tied to Deran.

He hadn't seen him in weeks but that didn't make a lick of difference. Deran didn’t have to lift a finger and he had just as a huge impact on his life as he did if he were to were directly be the cause of it.

As long as he was in Oceanside, as long as any of the Cody brothers existed, there was nothing he could do to remove himself from this situation.

He didn't need a temporary reprieve to get his life together. He needed a permanent one. That was all contingent on him leaving Oceanside.

Adrian wiped his elbow against his nose as he noticed Deran making his way towards him. At first, he walked in a slow and almost hesitant pace, stopping here and there-checking at anything he passed by but once there was but a couple of feet between them, he picked up his pace.

 

Adrian couldn't help but watch as Deran lifted his shoulders, placed a purpose in his stride and made his way towards the table. The corners of his lips started to twitch and it settled into a frown. His brows become to dent inwards.

Adrian hated how much that consolidated him.

Deran stopped to stare at him but that was fleeting. He immediately whipped his head to stare at Pope before muttering, "what's _going_ on?"

Adrian didn't have to respond.

He felt himself bristle as Pope coolly responded with a mere "Nothing."

\----

Adrian shoved the key into this notch and twisted it until the door slipped open. He reached for his duffel bag and tossed it on the bed, reaching for his sweatshirt and shoving it in.

"What did Pope say?" Adrian heard his door slam shut. He was too agitated and angry to even do that himself and he soon felt the need to regret his poor lack of choices.

"Adrian."

Adrian zipped the bag and tugged on the zipper when it became stuck mid-way through. He tugged and tugged before he pulled the zipper back to remove the fabric caught in between and then pulled forward to seal the bag.

"Hey," Deran was beside him, his voice a low thunderous growl, looming under him with his eyes deeply searing through Adrian's skin, "I'm fucking talking to _you_."

He unzipped the bag and grabbed his sweatshirt, placing his hands through the sockets and fixing the hoodie as it began to hide his tremors.

He grabbed the duffel bag and swung it over his back, twisting his body to face the door and took a couple of strides before the low whisper that barely escaped Deran's lips stopped him in his tracks.

"I'm sorry."

He clutched onto the handles a little bit tighter.

Sorry. Sorry for what exactly? Was Deran apologizing for making his life a complete and absolute mess? Was he apologizing for the way he made him feel like that there was no hope in his complacency? That despite forgiving him for being the insufferable human being that he was, he was acknowledging that he had broken him.

Was he apologizing for the years of anguish and pain he had inflicted? For the years that he had taken away from him and in the process gleaned nothing? For making him have to justify things that there shouldn't have to be a reason for him to even justify? For what exactly.

And for who exactly? Was he apologizing so his conscience would be cleared whilst his felt like an ongoing crime scene; there were imprints , fabrics of photos, nuances of memories and a large yellow tape that screamed 'CAUTION: DO NOT CROSS'.

For years, that's what he had felt. DO NOT CROSS. He felt like there was a vast wall between himself and this world and if anyone were to even remotely try to get past it, he would crumble. That's what Deran did to him and he didn't know how long it would take for that distance to dissolve and for him to resolve.

That's what he did to Adrian.

Is that what he's apologizing for ?

"You're _sorry_?" Adrian repeated the words in the dark room, the small ray of light from the lamps hanging off of the roof, shining through a crevice in the window.

Deran didn't respond.

Adrian tapped his fingers on his thigh, trying to mimic the rhythm of his beating heart. It was almost too quick and too loud in his ears for him to regain some idea as to the rhythm but he soon found himself tapping- every second or so but ever jab was a little bit harder and every momentary pause was a little bit longer.

He was sorry.

Is that what Adrian wanted to hear? Even if he did, did he care? Would it help him try to regain some control over his life?

Did it even have a meaning anymore when the actions behind that word were too devastating to be even wiped away by a mere apology?

Most likely not.

"What do you want Deran?" He found himself asking, because that was always the catch. There wasn't a reason for him to ask for forgiveness when he wanted something in return. He always wanted something in return. He always knew he would get something back in return. Because that's the pattern they were both familiar with.

"I," he began but it was soon followed by a small growl, which was even lower but much more strained, "I _don't know_." Adrian could hear him pacing the length of the small room, the sole of his slipper grazing harshly against the tiled floor. "I don't know!" He groaned, "I just-" a pause, "I just-I-"

Adrian found himself twisting around to face Deran, who had his back to him, his hands on his hips and his head looking straight at the floor beneath him. He had his legs shoulder length apart and he watched as Deran's chest rose and fell, the sound of his breaths reverberating through the room, one more strained than the other.

"You know what I want?" Adrian whispered, because he couldn't find it within himself to raise his voice, for he feared that if it became anymore apparent that he indeed was not strong enough to have this conversation, there would be a part of him that, if he had not already lost it, he would lose forever. And he was afraid that he would never gain it back. There wasn't much left for him to lose. There was not much more of Adrian. There was a visceral body of him that someone just occupied and he didn't want to know the extent of how fucking lonely that truly was.

"I want it to just stop," he jabbed at his forehead with his free hand, "the voices." He elaborated, "I hear yours, I hear my own but I don't even recognize it. Everything I do, I have to think ten times about it because I don't even know what I want. I don't even know if I ever did. And-" he clenched his fist until he could feel his nails shoving into his skin, "I don't even know if it's because of you, us, or if it's just me. And if it is me, I wouldn't even know how to fix it."

Adrian noticed how Deran turned to face him, but with the darkness of the room, he couldn't even discern the expression on Deran's face.

"What do _you_ want," Adrian asked.

Deran shifted a bit. He tucked a strand of hair that fell against his cheek behind his ear and paused. Other than the sound of his heart beating, Adrian could hear how shallow Deran’s inhales and exhales were.

"I want," Deran lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing at his thigh in an almost instant itch, as if he could translate his thoughts into words better if he could just stop the itch, "I _need_ to be okay."

Okay.

He wanted to be okay.

"Fuck you."

Adrian dumped his bag beside him and walked closer until the distance between them was just a mere foot apart. He jabbed his finger at Deran, "Fuck _you_."

"A-"

"When do you not want to be _okay_? You think that's what at stake here-you're fucking sanity?"

He could see Deran shaking his head.

"No," he moved closer until he jabbed him in the chest with his clenched fist, "it's my turn to fucking talk." He waited for Deran to grab his fist in between every jab but he didn't need to as Deran looked at him without even attempting to stop him. "I need you stop lying to yourself that it's going to be okay. Nothing is okay, you selfish prick! Nothing remotely in your life is okay and I need you to stop telling yourself it is!"

He found himself shoving Deran a little further back, every time his fist collided with his chest; but there was no force to it as there was intention to it. He just wanted Deran to recognize that his intention was to talk and he was going to until he had nothing more to say.

"Your mother has a-" Adrian noticed Deran wanted to intercept but instead his voice rose a little bit higher, "fuck _you_. It has everything to do with Smurf! And I know you know that! You know how? Huh. Because every single time I'm around you, sometimes I don't even see you anymore. I see her."

Adrian had quick flashes of that particular look graze through his mind. It was rapid but the effect of it was just as exhausting and just as impactful.

"And what? You thought that's the kind of person you wanted to be to get what you want?" Adrian pulled his hand back as Deran moved to get up, "you want validation, right. You want Smurf to be able to depend on you because you want her to _love_ you. Right?"

In the particular spot that Deran was standing; when Adrian noticed Deran looking like that--red-eyed and pale and sorta thin in the wrong places--all the words that were on Adrian's tongue and clogging up his chest, they're gone. Or, like, eclipsed. Because suddenly they're not even as important as the overwhelming (stupid, fucking) need to like, reach out and touch. To worry. Because Deran is really pale and there are little tight lines at the corners of his eyes that Adrian had never seen before.

He stopped himself as he felt the force and the need to reach over, by clasping his unclenched fist over the other. _No way_. He took a couple of steps back to stop his imminent involuntary movements. _No fucking way._

"At the same time, it shouldn't have to do anything with Smurf but _you_ -" his voice rose, "you let her get to you because you know why? HUH." Everything he had felt in every visceral part of himself started to ache, as if the gravity of the next couple of word would just shatter him, "you thought you could get away with anything and _I_ was the fucking idiot who let you get away with everything!"

Deran took a step forward and Adrian found himself taking a step back. When Deran noticed how Adrian would retreat further back as he tried to get closer, he stopped. He placed his palms out in front of him and started to point his index finger at himself.

"You know where Smurf is?" Deran barked, as he moved his finger until he began to jab at his temple, his ears, and then extended his hands out, "she's everywhere! You're right! She _is_ everywhere. And you know who else is? Pope. Baz. Craig!"

Deran mockingly laughed, "I'm not getting away with shit! And what exactly is that you wanted me to do when I had to see how she-" he pointed to no one in particular but hey both knew that she had an integral part in their conversation, "she-" his voice broke off, "she doesn't even notice that I'm there unless I have something to offer. I'm not," he waved his hand at me, "I'm not like Baz, or Pope- I don't come up with plans, I just do my part. And that's how she notices me. And what? You don't think I notice what I have to do for her to even care? I know. I fucking _know_." he wiped his palms against his shorts, "But that's all I've ever known!"

"So that's _you_ r excuse?" Adrian retorted, "that all you have ever known is how to treat people like shit, hell with the consequences?"

"No," he barked, "what I _know_ is that I don't have anything to offer to anyone! Not even to _you_."

"Then what was the past couple of years? You trying to figure shit out at my expense? Were you trying to figure out what the fuck Deran Cody has to _offer_?"

"No!" Deran’s voice rose, "I was trying to be someone," He shoved his hands into the pockets in his shorts harshly, "For _you_."

"Fuck you."

Adrian could pinpoint exactly what Deran could have not done to him. He shouldn't have treated him like he was an obsequious fuck when that's all he had become. He shouldn't have taken advantage of him if he wanted to want to be with him.

"Adrian, I never-"

"Don't you say it!" He yelled, "don't you dare say you never meant to hurt me. Everything you did was intentional! Nothing was accidental so don't think for a fucking second that you can sit there and say that shit to me."

Deran hastily closed the gap between them, grabbing Adrian by his shoulders and slamming him against the wall, one palm resting behind Adrian’s head, while the other hand gripped Adrians clavicle to somewhat lessen the impact.

"I never thought that I could feel something else in my life," his eyes were wandering hastily all over Adrian's face, as if Deran wanted to be able to see how Adrian would respond to what he had to say, "I didn't think that I could ever feel anything other than what I'm used to. And you-" he removed his palm from underneath Adrian's head, " _You_ made me feel safe and that fucking _terrified_ me." He let out a low strangled breath.

Adrian bristled under his touch, his skin burning with the contact.

" _No_ ," Deran moved slightly away, but still had his grip on Adrian, which to be quite honest, wasn't as tight as he would have expected , "it was more than that. I never had to prove anything to you. I never had to be anyone but myself with you."

" _Your self_?" Adrian hissed, "treating me like your emotional punching bag is who _you_ really are?"

Deran gripped a little bit tighter.

"If you really wanted to be someone, _anyone_ , why did you have to do at my expense? If I made you feel so goddamn safe, why the fuck did you treat _me_ like shit!"

Adrian wanted to scream until he couldn't. He wanted it to stop hurting. He wanted everything to stop hurting. He wanted to be okay. Fuck, he wanted to be more than okay. He just wanted to feel anything other than anger and pain which eventually surmounted to absolute numbness.

He just wanted to be someone who felt anything other than this insurmountable pain.

"Because it was easier to hurt you!" Deran's voice boomed and reverberated across the walls. Adrian watched as Deran recoiled just as fast as the words left his mouth. Deran took a couple of steps back until his foot collided with the ledge of the bed.

Easy?

"That's all I do, right? All I do is hurt people. " Deran's barked.

Adrian was silent, but even that was momentary.

"Easy?" Adrian croaked, " _easy_?"

Deran grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged on it until a he exhaled a wistful breath, "You know why it's _simple_ to be around you?" He asked but didn't wait for a response, "because _I_ make it simple. I hurt you, you get hurt. I at least know that I can count on that!"

Adrian felt like someone grabbed him by his feet, dangled him off of a building and then slowly gnawed at him until there wasn't any skin to cut or flesh to pierce.

Adrian couldn't help the whimper that escaped his lips.

To hear Deran say that, it was-it felt too real but it felt like it was something he always needed to hear. Deran could rely on Adrian to be his emotional punching bag because he never whole heartedly contested it.

Deran could rely on Adrian to take the punches and the words because he became complacent with it.

That was the truth.

And it was out in the open.

Adrian shoved himself off the wall, his fists clenched at his sides.

Before he could even think about what he wanted to do or say-

He took large strides until he was standing in front of Deran, grabbed him by his shoulders and lunged his clenched fist back before colliding it with Deran's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I need to know now is that Spencer is a series regular next season.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly NSFW

His knuckles began to ache as he continued to collide his fists into Deran's face. The pounding against his chest and the way his clenched hand indented into Deran's skin, were the only things he could hear. The only thing he wanted to hear. There was a form of synchronicity that developed every time he cocked his arm-punched-watched as Deran staggered slightly-the beating of his heart found a rhythm with every punch.

 

 

As if he somehow found a way to convey the throbbing in his chest into something tangible. This was for those times where Deran had taken advantage of him. For making it seem as if he was something that was convenient to Deran and that there would be nothing more. For letting him have to walk on eggshells for he worried that if he said the wrong thing, did the wrong thing-he would repay by losing an innate part of him.

 

A memory was always overshadowed by misery. There were times where Adrian would wonder whether it was his life to live, his choices to make, his time to be. Never once did his sacrifices went noticed. Deran seamlessly made it seem as if the things Adrian had to give up were insignificant, trivial and most importantly, worthless. 

 

There wasn't a day where Deran didn't make it obvious that his life was more damaged than how Adrian felt. That they were both damaged  _together_.  That his pain was inconsequential to how Deran felt. If Adrian felt like he was suffocating, Deran made it apparent that he was drowning. If he felt worthless, Deran felt invisible. If he felt sorrow,  Deran was already dead inside.

 

Nothing he ever did or felt was equivalent to what Deran did or felt.

 

Adrian fisted his hand into Deran's shirt-

 

It became quite apparent that his hands weren't even being aimed at Deran as much as it was being pounded into the mattress beside Deran's head. 

 

The first punch, he was sure his hand came into contact with flesh.

 

Everything after-

 

He couldn't even tell the difference. 

 

This wasn't him. 

 

He stopped. His fist, mid-way, which he unclenched and brought closer to his face.

 

He glared at the redness around his knuckles, the way his skin was discolored by the blood that seeped onto his skin. Seeing it on his hands made him pull back, using the grip he had on Deran to lift him up.

 

Deran looked-he didn't look as bad as his own hand felt.

 

His lip was split. That had to be the blood that spilled onto his hands. If he was being quite honest,  the graze wasn't remotely an inch in diameter. 

 

His hand hurt. 

 

Yet Deran didn't look like it even inflicted any pain. He hung his head as he swiped his elbow across his mouth, grazed his hand under his own chin and then spat whatever he had gurgled in his mouth.

 

Adrian braced himself as Deran moved towards the wall and lifted his elbow to rest on it. He let out a small groan as he placed his cheek against the wall, rubbing his other palm across his eyes as he lurched downwards.

 

"I'm sorry." He muttered, because he was. Because this wasn't him. "Sorry." He repeated, glaring at his hands and curling them up as it harrowed in on him what he just did.

 

He wanted to puke.

 

This  _wasn't_  him. 

 

Adrian tilted his head to take a peek out the window. There was still a harrowing darkness and the briefest light he could see crept up from the lamp hovering over the parking lot. 

 

Adrian let out a hallowed sigh.

 

_"Jesus."_

 

Adrian knelt at the edge of the bed, wiping his hands across his shorts as he laid his feet out in front of him, his exhaustion suddenly draining whatever he else he felt.

 

Deran wiped the corner of his mouth with his tongue, a couple of swirls until it seemed as if he became aware of the fact that he split his lip.

 

Adrian-something he always wished he could somehow regain control over, was-despite everything, every single fucking thing-from the bullshit, to the years of being mistreated, where he had been emotionally conflicted and complacent with Deran's bullshit-apart of him regretted hitting Deran. Not only regretted, but he was sick at the thought of it.

 

He never fought to make a point because what difference would that have made? How was he any different than Deran if he used his fists instead of his words. It wasn't as if he was stupid not to notice that words were doing no wonders-for fucks sake, sometimes he could see the words traveling through Deran's one ear and out the other-but it didn't mean that Deran wasn't listening.

 

Deran listened and he did respond. Just in small ways that Adrian could have missed if he did pay close attention.

 

Years ago, they fought about Belize.

 

Deran never wanted to talk about what what exactly happened between them then but he was always willing to ask Adrian about relieving those few weeks every couple of months or so. It was like giving crumbs of a cake to someone and asking them to regurgitate it out in command. 

 

Impossible. Just physiologically impossible.

 

Belize was-both of them didn't know what the hell Belize was. It just happened and as much as Adrian couldn't forget those weeks they spent there, he knew it didn't have it in him to ever relieve it again. What they did was something that was highly not feasible when it all occurred under this pretense.

 

But it confused the shit out of him when Deran made it quite clear that he  _understood_  Adrian's frustration. He hadn't brought up Belize in years and when he did, it was terse and to the point. He dropped it as soon as he began.  Deran dropped the conversation as if he knew how much Adrian did not think that he could even remotely be open to the idea of it.

 

To say he was considerate-overestimation. To say that Deran was aware of what lines to push when it benefitted him and what lines to not cross so he could avoid a situation-that was what Deran was good at.

 

Deran's temper would get the best of him and every single time he needed to let loose, Adrian found himself having to give him  that relief. Going away to a place and ignoring the words that transpired between them, the purposeful ignorance that both of them have somehow accepted-doing anything remotely close to Belize would be like asking for some rain and getting a monsoon instead.

 

Neither of them want that. 

 

Deran could easily ask to relieve the past but he never wanted to deal with the consequences afterwards. Adrian wanted something-he had always wanted something with Deran but he always looked forward to the future.

 

Deran was stuck in the past.

 

Adrian was stuck with him.

 

Deran never thought about the future and somewhere along the way, Adrian let go of that idea too. Neither of them every talked about what they were doing but they somehow found a way to implicitly acknowledge it.

 

That wasn't a relationship.

 

Everything they did was out of convenience. 

 

The friendship was convenient-it was what they were used to. Surfs on a good day. A party here and there. Sex was extremely convenient. At one point, Adrian found it almost cathartic because sex was probably the one time when Deran wasn't putting on a facade. Sometimes he would-

 

 

_\- take his hands from the high plane of Deran's hips and spread fingers forward, across cool green paint of the bedroom wall; sweat made them slip and he pushed his body back, toes digging into the carpet to stop the inexorable forward momentum of each rough thrust._

_"Come on," Deran mumbled against his shoulder; grabbing him by his waist._

_"Fuck, yeah—come on, come on..." The rise and fall of the words took on the broken shape of Deran's breathing and made the hair on the back of Adrian's neck stand up._

 

_Each breath that he pulled in smelled like Deran against the back of his throat; it was cologne and sweat and hair gel, a sharp sort of buzz that he wouldn't be able to clear out of his nose for days. It used to be a smell that Adrian had pushed his face into his pillows to find._

_Deran's fingers wrapped around his dick and squeezed, redirecting thought. A noise cracked its way up his throat, something he'd rather not admit, but Deran must have heard it because his hand twisted accordingly to draw out another, thumb pushing up almost too hard against the sensitive fork of flesh under the head of his dick. Deran's hips jumped and the movement brought them together with enough force for the resulting stretch to burn._

_It was too easy, the way Deran could bring him off. Like he knew all the places to touch to make Adrian forget his own name, forget their lives, forget that what they were doing couldn't be everything._

_His fingernails bit white crescents into green paint when he came, arching back against the solid bulk of Deran. His knee smacked the wall but the sensation was far under a flush of heat and trembling muscles. Deran was still thrusting, nearly lifting Adrian to his toes. His fingers smeared cooling jizz across Adrian's stomach to grab a hip and pulled him back, held him down until-_

-The thought of any intimacy made Adrian want to cringe. As much as Deran would be attentive and have some brutally unwavering things to say, even sex became an act. Eventually it became another thing where Deran needed to assert his control over.

 

It was never about engaging because both of them wanted to be able to share something that they couldn't articulate-which was a big fucking joke since they never had a sincere conversation in their lives- but it became something to just do. Every other day-it became apart of their routine.

 

It was as convenient as remembering to brush his teeth when he woke up, eat a breakfast, go to work, go for a swim, talk to Deran, have sex with Deran, eat some dinner, go to sleep, wake up-

 

 

"I kept telling myself that it wasn't normal-you and me," Adrian laid his head on his knees, wrapping his hands around his legs, "it was always a voice in my head and the quieter the noise got, the more I started to forget it. I mean-I found myself having to make excuses for  _you_. Do you know how fucked up that is?"

 

Adrian swallowed the bitterness in his throat. He hated that he spent a majority of time making excuses for him because he somehow believed that it benefited  _them_. Not him. Not Deran. But  _them_. 

 

 Normal was a relative term; it varied amongst different people. This was their normal. That's what he told himself.

 

Because Deran wasn't a typical guy and what they had wasn't typical under any context.

 

That's what he  _told_  himself.

 

"I thought that there was no way you could do that to me if you even gave a shit about me. You've known me for ten years.  _Ten year_ s," he croaked as  the longetivity made him upset at how insignificant it was in perspective, "There's no way you would have done that if you knew how much I fucking l-" his words were caught in his mouth

 

He heard as Deran leaned forwards, the floor creaking beneath them at the slightest movement. Adrian held his breath as Derans' swallowed up the entire room; it was loud and it was hollow.

 

"There was  _no way_." Adrian tightened his arms around his legs. The words died in his mouth.

 

No way. 

 

There was no way.

 

Adrian tightened his jaw to silence his whimper, "there was no way." He whispered, so quietly, he was sure Deran couldn't have possibly heard him. 

 

It almost felt like his thoughts weren't just in his head anymore but out in the open. Yet, just like his thoughts, they were mostly quiet and mostly dead to everyone else's ears except his own.

 

"What do you  _need_  me to say?" Adrian looked up as he was surprised into silence. Need, not want. Wanting something is a choice. Needing something meant it was necessary. 

 

What did Adrian  _need_? 

 

He wasn't sure what Deran could have possibly said that would have helped him-their situation. The more that became apparent, he wondered why it still pained him to find a way to move on. 

 

If it didn't make a difference what Deran said, why can't he just move past this?

 

"I tell you the truth and-" he's shrouding his brows as if he couldn't make sense of it, "you  _punched_  me."

 

It wasn't so much that Deran had something to say, it was the mere fact that he had to say it now. "I've known you for almost ten years, man.  _Ten years._ Why couldn't you talk to me when it mattered _?"_

Deran shook his head obstinately, as if he was making it apparent that Adrian wasn't the one who wasn't understanding. 

 

"I don't remember you ever trying." 

 

Adrian bristled.

 

"Are you fucking serious?" They were here at this point because all Adrian ever did was try. He tried to defend Deran. He tried to make things work. He tried to forgive him for unforgivable things. He tried and tried even though he couldn't even figure out how much he was capable of. "I'm the only one in this relationship who has ever  _tried_." 

 

"Really?" He looked around the room in an almost mockingly manner, "I don't remember you  _trying_  to talk about what it was that we were doing." 

 

Adrian scoffed. It was one thing to be presumptuous but to be consciously ignorant-

 

"No," Deran raised his hand out, "you're always going on about how Smurf's in my head and how I was always fucking up your life, blaming me for every single thing," Deran rubbed his neck, "I'm not saying I didn't fuck up but you can't blame me for everything. I mean-fuck, it takes two to make a relationship," he paused as if he tested around with that word to see how he felt about just using it, "work, right?" 

 

Deran swiped his hand across his mouth as the split tore slightly open, "we used to talk about stupid shit all the time. Now, I can't even talk to you. Like, I feel like I'm talking to a brick wall half the time." 

 

Deran growled, "I might be the same guy you met years ago but I don't even recognize  _you_  anymore." He thumbed his lower lip.

 

He didn't know how it felt to be in an accident. But it must have felt something like this. All the air in his lungs just evaporated. His head felt like someone slammed him face down into concrete. 

 

Deran was the same guy. He just happened to be slightly taller, his features more defined and a personality that matched the kid he met. But that was the problem. Deran was always the same-he never  _evolved_. That was always the problem with them. Adrian-in many ways than Deran, had changed but that was part of growing up. The mentality of a punk ass kid wouldn't get them anywhere. 

 

He couldn't recognize himself either but the truth of the matter was that Adrian had to change for the both of them. If he was the same thirteen year old kid, there was no way they would have strung out as long as they did. 

 

Adrian shifted his eyes.

 

He felt his stomach sink. 

 

Did he change for the both of them so in some form, they could still do what they were doing without ever having to lose the friendship? Did he change for Deran so at least one person could shoulder the consequences for them even continuing whatever they were doing? 

 

Fuck.

 

"Would you ever send one of your brothers to hurt me?"

 

Adrian was surprised that Deran didn't snap his neck by how fast he jolted his head up. He didn't have to look him in the eyes to notice how much that stupefied him: " _What_." 

 

"I asked-"

 

" _No_." From the corner of his eyes, Adrian noticed his towering figure, hissing as he shifted his shoulder a little too fast against the wall, " _NO_." Deran repeated, yet this time, his voice sounded more strained.

 

"I don't believe you." 

 

"Adrian-"

 

Adrian leveled his palms on the floor to provide him enough support as he lifted himself up. "That's what you've done to me, Deran. I have to wonder if that's even a possibility," he bit back the lump in the back of his throat, "I want to believe that you won't but I can't," he couldn't imagine how it could not be a possibility when everything since the past two years has imbalanced the play field, "I don't know  _you_  anymore. And I'm fucking scared that I never did." 

 

Deran had leaned against the window sill, he had almost looked regretful. Like he always did. 

 

"I wouldn't hurt you." 

 

"I  _don't_  believe you." 

 

"Ad-"

 

"I don't fucking believe you." Adrian grimaced. As years went by, Adrian believed in fewer and fewer things. "Maybe I never put in a lot of effort into talking about what we did, but when push came to shove, I didn't stick my tail between my legs and walk away. You," he scoffed as he couldn't fathom that Deran still didn't understand, "are full of shit! Everytime things get a little tough or you get a little scared, you ignore it. It doesn't hurt you because you don't even think about it." 

 

Deran frowned, "That's not fair." 

 

" _Fair_?" Adrian hissed, "you know what's not fair? I have to be the one who has to deal with this-not you! I can't even do anything I like because it reminds of  _you_. I spent the last decade doing everything with you and everything I thought I liked-I loved-I can't do it anymore because I don't think it was much about me as it was about us! I feel like I'm drowning and you put me there!" His voice wavered, " _you_  put me there."

 

He leveled his breathing but his anger seeped through as he rose his voice.

 

"And how exactly was I supposed to bring  _us_  up? Should I have done that when you stopped pissing around me to make it more obvious how much everything I did was not as much in my control as it was yours? Should I have done it when you socked my eye because your nephew caught you enjoying oral sex from a guy?" 

 

Adrian braced himself as the endless possibilities flashed through his mind, "should I have done it when you didn't have Smurf breathing down your neck? Should I have done it when Baz or Pope weren't telling you what to do? Hmm? When. Tell me." They were constantly in his life; there couldn't have been any excuse.

 

Deran looked away.

 

"You know what, maybe it was easy to hurt me because that's what cowards do right? They take the easy way out?" Adrian didn't want to stop, "you're a fucking coward. Not because I don't know how insane half your family is, but because you can't be stronger than them. You take the easy way out because you don't get as much hurt as others do." 

 

His voice became more leveled as he wanted to focus on articulating his thoughts "We are  _all_  dealing with shit, Deran. It doesn't mean you can ignore yours by shoving it on someone else! I'm not a fucking sponge to absorb your bullshit and I hate that that's what you've done!" 

 

Deran rubbed at his elbow. 

 

"I don't know what you want me to do." His voice was hoarse. It was a bare whisper. It felt like he was projecting those words more to himself than as a response to Adrian. 

 

And there it was. Despite everything Adrian had said, that was the conclusion Deran had come to. That there was something he could do to rectify  _them_. "Jesus, you don't get it do you?" 

 

When Deran leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a pensive look etched on his face, it hit Adrian that Deran did not understand. 

 

"You will no longer use me to figure shit out," something in side of Adrian snapped, "you want to be someone, then stop looking to find yourself in someone. There's a reason why it's called identity-it's a  _self_  awareness," something he wished Deran would just listen to because most of their problems stemmed from the fact that they hadn't known who they we're and embarked on something that heavily relied on them knowing themselves. 

 

"There was always three of us in this  _relationship_ ," and he knew there would always be as long as Deran didn't understand, "you. Me. And every expectation you think people hold you up to." 

 

He wanted to say Smurf but that was something he knew would be a futile argument to begin with. Whether or not Deran's head was shoved far up Smurf's ass was never debatable but this isn't what would get to Deran's head.

 

It's never about Smurf. It was always something else. 

 

" I won't pretend to understand what the hell is going on in your family," because he would never understand it, "but if you think being a selfish, suffocating and unrealistic is going to help you form any relationship, you need to start there."

 

That's not how anyone can sustain a relationship. Yes, it takes two to make it work but he sure as hell knew that Deran didn't even participate without some perverse connotation. 

 

Adrian never normalized them because what they had, not only was it abnormal, it was atypical. Not because Deran was an atypical guy but because if they were both quarter-assing and expecting the numbers to add up to 1, it was never going to happen. Adrian made the mistake of choosing to rationalize for Deran. Deran made the mistake of putting that responsibility on Adrian. 

 

"You want to be someone?" He waited for Deran to look up, "Stop  _hating_  yourself." 

 

Deran pushed himself off of the wall. 

 

"I don't-" 

 

"Everytime you tell me that you want to leave Smurf but then go running back to her, it means that you think you don't have something in you that is strong enough to go against her. Everytime you treat me like shit and then end up asking me about living in the fucking past,  you're afraid to move on," Adrian tilted his head as Deran avoided contact, "you want to live in a fantasy because you don't want to face the truth. And do  _you_  even  know what the truth is?" 

 

Deran turned his back to Adrian, as if he was bracing himself for what was to be said.

 

"I think you hate the idea of not being like any of  _them_ ," Adrian stretched his arms out as if it was apparent who  _they_  were, "you follow their rules because that's all you have to guide you to be like them. You don't come up with plans, not because you're stupid, it's because you're thinking things not only once or twice, but ten times out. You want to leave them but you can't because you don't think that anyone will give a shit if they see who the real Deran Cody is." 

 

Adrian couldn't really tell whether what he had to say affected him, but he took the silence as an opportunity to finish.

 

"You're so afraid of being different from them because you need to know that what you're doing is worth something. That you being someone else is all it takes for Smurf to validate you," Deran began to shake his head, "you're afraid that if your own mother can't love you, then who will?" 

 

 

Deran's quiet depression shifts into a glower and Deran can glower with the best. "No," he muttered, "No that's not-" 

 

"Look me in the eye and tell me that it's not true." 

 

Deran placed both his hands on his hips, his eyes avoiding contact.

 

The briefest light peering through the window allowed Adrian to catch the way Deran's forehead creased. The way he began to nibble on his lower lip. The way his eyes began to glower but they were fighting to stay impassive.

 

Like he didn't want to believe it but he knew it was true.

 

"You won't even admit it, will  _you_?" 

 

Deran paused. 

 

Every contortion on his face completely disappeared. He lifted his shoulders up, brought a his hands to his side and for the briefest of seconds made eye contact with Adrian.

 

 

There were no words exchanged. But the way the color faded from his cheeks, Adrian didn't need a verbal confirmation.

 

Deran knew.

 

And just as fast, Adrian was left alone with the sound of the door slamming reverberating through his ears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR READING THIS!!!!!
> 
> Also, any criticism or honest discussion is much appreciated; I'm looking forward to learning more as to how I can write these characters better. If I have offended anyone, I want to preface this by saying that that is NOT my intention. I have never experienced psychological abuse to the extent that I have portrayed this character to have. 
> 
> I would love to talk to more of you; if not here, definitely hit me up on my tumlbr: okaywhateverokayyes


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, warnings, warnings !

Everything was just, the same. The sky didn't fall. Night didn't mysteriously turn into morning. The sun still rose in the east and set in the west. There weren't any pigs flying. The ground didn't completely disintegrate. The air was still breathable. The world was still held together by sun's gravitational pull.

He felt like his life was falling apart but the world he was apart of, it was still together. He could swear that it felt like there would be an imminent end-with the way every breath he took felt like needles pricking into his skin. With every slightest movement he made, as if boulders were being shoved into his chest and on top of him.

He was sure he felt like something was inevitably imploding, he didn't expect it to be just him.

"You going to eat that?"

Adrian jabbed his fork; the idea of eating was not only unsettling, it felt inappropriate. How was he supposed to eat when it felt like he couldn't even find the strength to swallow the lump in his throat. How could he just sit here and eat where all he could hear was the door slamming. All he could see was the way Deran's face fell, the way his face paled, the way he-

He had years to ponder how he would convey frustrations but he gave up on that notion a long time ago. Words died on his tongue. Actions felt too exhausting. Just being and getting through seemed more feasible for the long run.

He didn't regret saying what he had to say.

No, it wasn't that.

But he couldn't put his finger on why he felt so unsettled. Felt so frazzled. He wasn't angry as much as he was confused. Last night was supposed to be-it was to be supposed to be anything but. He didn't feel like the weight was lifted off of his shoulders. He didn't feel like he wasn't drowning. He didn't feel like he could breathe without having to force it.

He felt like he failed something that he couldn't articulate.

But he didn't understand why.

Deran was the one who failed at even being a friend.

He shoved his plate in Craig's direction, dropping the fork haphazardly across the table. Craig smirked at the opportunity to consume more food. He wore this wide grin as he began to eat the bacon.

"Shit, I'm starving." Craig muttered between bites, making no attempt to even civilly consume his food. He grabbed the strip of bacon with his hands and he shoved it into his mouth, using his other hand to roll another strip on the plate.

Compassion. Empathy. Understanding. That's what he thought he was good at. At the core of what Deran and him had, these three played a significant role in his resolve. He understood what they were doing was always going to be their-their thing, their secret. Lack of a better word. It was just going to be something between them because Deran didn't want to take the risk and Adrian-apart of him didn't want it to end.

He had empathy for Deran because he felt like there lacked a sense of compassion for Deran's situation that he felt like he needed to give.

  
Some days he was frustrated that it had to get to this point, that they never could ever find a balance. That it was always between two extremes and neither of them made a conscientious choice rather than a forced one. It wasn't like Adrian wasn't trying to make it work, he made it work at the expense of his morals, his beliefs, his convictions.

He didn't know what Deran gave up.

And it bothered him that he was curious about it.

It takes two to make a relationship work.

But-

"Pope called. He said he can't find Deran." J pulled the chair beside Adrian, dropping a half opened wrap on the table. He laid his hands flat out and nudged himself forward. As he scooted closer, J tilted his head to look at Adrian. He threw a small smile, "morning."

Adrian nodded in response.

"M'rning."

Craig brought his phone out and peered with his eyes half opened, the sun obstructing his vision, as he dabbed his finger on the screen. He scrolled up a couple of times, paused, moved a little closer as he scrunched his eyes.

He rubbed at his chest as he drew his face away from his cell, "He's probably just somewhere." Even as he said it, Adrian noticed how his voice was wavering and slow, as if he wanted to be comforted by the words rather than actually being convicted about what he was saying.

His mouth tightened as he stopped chewing, wiping his palm across his shorts as he shifted higher up in his seat. He raised one arm over the chair and rested the other against his thigh, looking away for a moment.

Adrian wasn't the only one who noticed the change in the atmosphere. J leaned forward, tilting his head to look in the direction that Craig was looking in and let out a slow huff.

"I'll go look for him." J was mid-way from getting up, hands braced on the levers, his attention already directed towards the wall on the opposite side of where they were sitting. There was a couple of steps down and they would have been near the pier.

This morning, Craig dragged them a couple of miles down. Said he was starving and Adrian's stomach couldn't disagree. Deran's and Pope's missing presence didn't go unnoticed but Craig couldn't give two shits. He said something about them being able to figure shit out on their own if they wanted to eat. Craig didn't wait for them to follow but J and Adrian walked silently behind him.

J hadn't looked like he slept. the only indication of that was the slight discoloring under his eyes. He yawned a couple of times but he muffed them just as quickly by coughing. He wore the same clothes, they were slightly dirtier as if he rolled around in some dirt-but other than that, he looked well-kept. He even appeared to have put more effort into combing his hair-it wasn't as curly as he remembered, slightly folded to one side. It was as if he was trying to make up for the fact that he could kneel over and fall asleep on command if given the opportunity.

He wanted to ask.

He did.

But Adrian remembered something about J that he had observed a while back; if he didn't want to give answers to questions he didn't want to be asked, he damn well wasn't going to even if it was asked by someone with good intentions.

Adrian had good intentions.

The word just had a negative connotation.

So he diverted his attention to the things surrounding him.

It had been a while since he's been in Cabo. Things were so different but at the same time, it seemed as if everything was stagnant. Sure, there were some alterations here and there, a couple of light fixtures, a new road, some more shops-which were just a revamped version of the original.

But the atmosphere was just the same. The people were just as vibrant as he remembered. The language was as jargon as much as he could recalled but it was fucking beautiful this time around-no lie. He felt like he was listening in on a conversation he couldn't discern but the beauty of it was the people who did engage in that language did understand it.

It was admirable how much they didn't focus on insignificant things that they did focus on back home. Each and every one of them seemed to enjoy where they were and what they were doing. It could be something as generic as wiping the stalls; laughter wasn't too far away.

Maybe they didn't like the idea of it but it wasn't like they were forcing themselves to engage in their work. Somehow they found a way to enjoy it without it being a constant reminder that they didn't revel their work but rather needed a reason to.

It felt natural.

Back home, he was surrounded by people who were just suffocating. He was one of them. But he wasn't disdained by his work as much as he was frustrated with how contagious everyone else's attitude could be.

It had been years since he had been to Cabo and it was the one distinct thing that he remembered.

Their ethics were apparent and the genuinety of it did make him envious but more than anything, it was contagious. Brief, but contagious.

At least he knew he could expect to go back to Oceanside feeling innately cleansed-even if that didn't entail a mental or emotional reprieve.

So they ended up at _el desayuno no Es la cena._

And somehow the joviality of breakfast was soon overshadowed by the fact that Deran was missing? It wasn't as if his mood was soured, it was mostly Craig's.

Adrian blinked a couple of times to silence his bullshit thoughts and focused on what Craig was asking.

"Did you see him last night?" Craig directed it at Adrian, which all things considered was a pretty generic question but it didn't stop Adrian from feeling as if he was being cornered into answering it.

"Yeah." He laid his hands on his lap, crossing them over one another, "we just talked." He offered, because the tone that Craig had just spoken in got Adrian to worry as well.

"Was he okay when he left?" Adrian wanted to say no, but the truth of the matter was, he's never seen Deran look so pale. So resigned. So fucking broken. It was like he wasn't putting up a front and maybe wore his emotions on his sleeve for once.

Adrian didn't know what to think of it.

So Adrian settled with an , "I don't know," because he didn't know. He didn't know what emotion Deran wore because it wasn't any of the ones he was aware of it but some rendition of all three; he didn't think Deran was capable of showing anything remotely out of the shell that he encased himself in and he didn't expect it to impact him as much as it did.

"Well, did he try to punch the wall or _you_?"

It was a strange thing to ask but it seemed ironic how Adrian thought of that possibility last night. Hearing it being a possibility from someone other than from his own mind-it made him feel sick.

Like he wanted to say Deran wouldn't do that but he spent a good part of their conversation accusing Deran of being capable of doing it. That he had done it. That he wore his scars internally and was able to find a way not to showcase it. That he had been drained by Deran's shit but he somehow found a way to expunge just enough energy to get through.

"No," he shook his head, "nothing like that."

"Well," Craig scowled, "what did he do?"

Adrian shrugged, "we talked and he left."

Craig crunched his forehead and leaned forward, "Adrian, did he kind of look pissed? Angry? Like he wanted to choke someone?"

"Those are the same things."

Craig flailed his hands over his head and smacked one palm against his eyes, "For fucks sake," he lifted the keys from off of the table and encased the key holder into his finger, "I'll be back. You-" he pointed at J, "keep your phone on. And _you_ -" the finger was directed toward Adrian, "thanks for no help, man." There was a hint of sarcasm but more than anything, it felt as if Craig was genuinely frustrated with Adrian's ambiguity.

Like Deran being angry wasn't the same thing anymore. Like him being missing wasn't the same anymore. Like it held more significance than he thought it had to.

They both watched as Craig retreated, both of them turned to look at each other the moment Craig's figure disappeared.

"What's going on?" This wasn't a personal question so Adrian felt the need to be persistent, "J, don't be fucking daft, tell me what's going on."

With the way J glanced at his feet, tightened his jaw and let out a shallow exhale,apparently it was a personal question.

"It's Deran," he began but cleared his throat as the word was a bare whisper, "he's on edge."

"On edge?" Adrian repeated. "He's always on edge."

"No," he interrupted, "he's on _edge_." He repeated the words as if the emphasis on it would create more clarity, "he's not doing well." He continued, "Craig said its different this time."

Well? Was he sick. He was awfully pale but that was the extent of it. Nothing about him seemed atypical. He was the same guy he remembered.

_'I need to be okay.'_

_Fuck_.

"Well?"

"Yeah." J nodded, "he's not doing well."

"What the fuck does that mean?" He was surprised at the tone of his voice but there was a certain level of frustration with hearing the same thing and not gleaning anything out of it, "Is he sick?"

"Nothing like that." J replied, "he's just more-" he sighed, "on edge."

This was what Craig must have been feeling. Annoyed at the bare responses, having to interpret something that was barely interpretable-

"We had some trouble a couple weeks back." J began. But he tightened his lips just as soon as the words fell out of his mouth.

"If it's about the cops, I know." Adrian mumbled, "everyone knows." He continued.

J nodded.

What everyone knew wasn't what Adrian knew. He knew more. A couple of years back, Deran filled him on it. He had told him things he didn't think he could tell anyone outside of their realm.

He also thought that Deran's disclosure meant something. That he told him stuff because he wanted him to know his life. That it meant that he was offering in order to evolve what they had. That it wasn't just a mere friendship.

Now, he didn't know what to think of it.

"It was different this time." Adrian felt like J was reiterating someone else's words, as if he was just getting used to them as much as Adrian was absorbing what he was being told.

"What was?"

"Deran." J rubbed at his arm, "he lost it." His eyes wavered, "he really _lost_ it, Adrian."

The unsettled feeling only grew.

"J you're gonna have to-"

"Look, whatever Deran did. I don't know. Can't have been good. And I'm sorry. I really am." The words couldn't stop flowing out, "But like Deran needs this. Cabo. He needs this. And he needs _you_."

Adrian scratched at his thigh.

_He needs you._

"He needs to be okay." Adrian found himself reiterating what Deran had told him the night before.

"Yeah," J agreed, "because he's not okay. I think he's like-" J looked around, "I don't think he can handle any of _it_." _Anymore_.

_I need to be okay._

"I don't know why I'm here, but I know why you are."

That surprised Adrian.

What.

They both found themselves saying "Deran." J paused but he slowly nodded, as if he was hoping Adrian understood where he was coming from. As if he had said more than enough and that it would now be up to Adrian to understand the delicacy of the situation.

_What do you want?_

_I need to be okay._

\----  
Adrian spent the rest of the day in a haze. He found himself wondering how it got to this point. How it got to the point, where despite everything that has happened, he had seemingly forgot that at the end of the day, they have been friends longer than they have been anything else.

Deran was his friend. _Fuck_ , he was his best friend.

Things only went to shit once they have done anything else.

But Deran was his best friend.

He had lost sight of that.

_I need to be okay._

_Deran needs you._

_What do you want?_

_I need to be okay._

_Okay._

_**Okay**._

Adrian found Craig beside the Havana, a drink in his hand, which didn't surprise him, and a cigarette in the other. He was kneeling over to scratch at his lower ankle, spilling some of the contents in his glass in the process.

"Goddamn." He hissed as he wiped with the back of his hand, repositioning his cigarette between his fingers to prevent any accidental burning. "Jesus fucking Christ."

Adrian's innate response was to lean over and assist, but just as he reached forward, Craig lifted his head up and took a giant step backwards, palm extended out, "I'm good, man."

Adrian dropped his hand.

Craig lifted his legs, one at a time, waggled them slightly and then arched his back as he composed himself. Even then, Craig avoided eye contact. He gave a meager nod and then started to walk past Adrian.

Adrian followed.

"Did you find Deran?"

Even as Craig strode, his shoulders tensed but if he hadn't been paying attention, he could have missed it. Craig nodded and gave mumbled a meek , "Yep." Before he picked up his pace.

Adrian took longer strides to keep up.

"Is he okay?"

Adrian noticed the way Craig clenched his teeth, the indents apparent through his flesh. He took a quick drag before taking a long swing of the beer. The sounds of the alcohol colliding with the glass bottle, as well as the flickering of the light from the lamp post, perforated through the silence.

"Fine." His voice was tight.

Adrian glanced at his feet.

Craig was-

He sounded irritated.

"Craig-"

Before he could even look up, Adrian found himself having to level himself as Craig stopped in his spot, feet shoulder length apart, arms to his sides.

He almost tripped over his foot but found his footing as he stretched his hands out and fixed his composure. He straightened out just as quickly and lifted his head up to glare at Craig.

"Jesus-"

"You punched him?" He roared, "why the fuck would you do that, man?"

Adrian blinked.

"Craig-"

"Dude, I can't believe you would do that. Like, why the fuck would you do that?" Craig took a step forward and Adrian found himself taking a step back.

"Man, you're supposed to be better than that!" He growled, "you're supposed to be better than him!"

Adrian's temper flared. Just who the fuck dropped all that responsibility on him? It was one thing for him to take it upon himself, but having others expecting him to do it?

"What do you mean I'm supposed to better than _him_? He's supposed to be better than himself!" Adrian found himself shouting.

"I'm not here to defend him, man," Craig's voice lowered but there was still some tightness in his words, "okay? I just didn't think that you would do something like that, man. You're better than all of us- _all of us_."

"I don't need-"

He sighed,"Dude, just hear me out for fuck's sake."

So he clenched his jaw and waited. He bit back his words.

Craig tilted his head to look at him, wearing an exasperated look that quickly formed into one that was of complete irritation.

"A couple of weeks ago, some shit went down," when Craig shifted slightly, it became quite apparent that he wouldn't elaborate on exactly what that entailed but Adrian wasn't oblivious, "Usual shit. All's done and they're gone and you know, it was just the same old shit but Deran-" he growled, fisting his hair in his hand, "Deran took it hard, man."

Hard. What a relative term.

Adrian bit down on his tongue to stop from snorting.

Everything was hard to Deran, one of the reasons he was so full of shit. In the process of trying to make his life easier, he had done the antithesis of that.

A relationship? Nope. He could settle for a perverse one with his family because its all he's ever known. Adrian didn't think he even had the moral courage to even seek for anything else and truly want to sustain a normal-a stable relationship.

What Deran had with his brothers, that was relatively normal. But normal was a relative word. All things in perspective, Deran was trying to look for a needle in a haystack but ended up settling at any off chance he saw something relatively shiny.

He wants. He tries to get. The moment he feels anything other than what he's used to, he needs to have things go back to being, whatever they were, in order to placate his worries and fears. Anything would suffice if it didn't mean that he had to get hurt in the process.

The future? Deran didn't look forward to it because he was always stuck in the past.

"At first it was just you know, Smurf was trying to calm him down. Then it was just him being up at odd hours at night - He's like pacing across the pool deck, sometimes I find him sitting on the ledge and he's just like fucking staring, just staring at nothing."

Craig leveled his hands against his hips, "Then he's gone for hours," Craig huffed, as if not only was the prospect of it annoying, it was exhausting, "So Like, I thought he was with _you_."

Adrian didn't respond.

"Then no one sees him. We checked his place, your place, O-side and you're both gone," Craig looks off into the distance to emphasize just how foreign that seemed, "and I thought it was just like last time so I didn't worry too much."

What.

"Last time?" Adrian found himself asking.

Craig shifted his feet, "Yeah, you know," he shrugged his shoulders as if it was obvious, "Belize."

Adrian didn't know what psychological tests he was currently putting himself under but at that moment, he felt all the oxygen in his brain just evaporate.

"What."

Craig frowned.

" _Belize_." Craig repeated. As if that was enough of an answer to his question. An emphasis on the word that Adrian didn't think it remotely sufficed.

"What about it?"

Craig sighed, "Oh come oooon, man," Craig looked offended, If not annoyed at being asked something he thought was quite obvious, "How stupid do I look?"

Adrian didn't respond.

"That's where you guys went together two years back right? You and Deran." Even as the words left Craig's mouth, Adrian knew it was rhetorical. Craig could smell bullshit a mile away.

He felt like the words were dying on his tongue.

He was surprised into silence.

"Dude."

Adrian looked away.

Did Craig know? Did Craig always know? What did he know anyway? That Deran and him went to Belize as friends or did he know what else it entailed?

" _Dude_."

Adrian cleared his throat, "yeah." His voice was hoarse, but more than that, it was strained.

Jesus Christ.

As much as he wished that he didn't need to know the answer to that particular question, Craig reputedly answered anyway, as if that point needed to be made. As it was significant.

"We don't care man."

We.

"We?" He croaked.

"Well yeah," he shrugged, "Me. J. Baz."

There were one too many people who knew. Having that secret be just between Adrian and Deran felt like it was suffocating, but any more ? He didn't know how he was even standing up.

Adrian leaned against the lamp post, the seering from the metal temporarily jumbled his thoughts. But as he continued to stare at Craig, a hollow hole settled in his lower stomach and he was found himself drowning with anxiousness.

What they were doing was supposed to between them. That was implicit. That was implicit for years. There shouldn't have been others.

Fuck.

Craig frowned, "Pope.."

Pope.

Pope?

"Pope." Adrian repeated, wanting to taste the idea of Pope knowing something both Adrian and Deran thought would never need to know.

Adrian became complacent to that idea.

To hear that almost everyone knew.

He paused.

But know what?

"Craig what do they know?"

"Belize. You. Deran. You _and_ Deran."

You and Deran.

"There is no me and Deran."

"W-"

"There is _**no**_ me and Deran." This time, his voice was more leveled and resolute.

"Figured." Craig snorted, "Deran can be an asshole."

Adrian frowned.

"He _is_ an asshole." Adrian wondered how it was even something to question. Deran was as much as an insensitive asshole as it was very apparent that the sun rises in the east and settles in the west. No fucking doubt.

"Well, yeah," Craig was nodding, but even that was half-assed. It was as if he was stuck between agreeing to Adrian's point and wanting to refute. But as he finished his sentence, Craig fave a firm nod.

Like there.

Deran is an asshole.

"You know that it doesn't mean he can't get hurt, right?"

As much as he could easily counteract, Adrian viscerally knew that at the end of the day, as a human being, Deran was entitled to feeling whatever he wanted to feel; whether it was to be in a state of emotional pain or happiness.

But the truth of the matter was, Deran spent a long time trying not to feel anything so nothing seemed applicable to him.

"Deran is Deran."

Which Adrian already knew. Deran was frustratingly good at just being Deran. He was extremely well-versed on what to say to get away with things and what not to say to get away with things. Sometimes it seemed apt to appropriate a conclusive definition to what it means to be a Deran.

Deran: socially-reclusive, incapable of forming healthy relationships, resorts to violence and conscious ignorance to live his ideal life.

You want to be a Deran? You just have to be full of complete horse shit.

"Craig-"

"Look, he can be stupid. I get that. I've seen it, alright?" Craig wrapped his arms across his chest, "sometimes I think that he gets so wrapped up in what's happening in his mind, he loses sight of things."

Adrian didn't want to argue. This was Craig. He was going to defend Deran if his life depended on it; that usually was a stipulation with being brothers.

What bothered him was that Craig proceeded to talk to him as if Adrian had lost sight of who Deran was. Who Deran is.

How was he supposed to explain to Craig that his brothers doesn't even know he is; that whatever front up he puts up, he was testing the waters to see what personality he could wear that would assuage them?

Why couldn't Craig see that?

"I find out that you and Deran aren't in the same place together so I started to freak out a bit. I mean, knowing he's with you is like something I'm cool with, he has his best friend with him. But, you were down in Pines and he was God know's where."

Pines. This was the second time it was brought up in the past two days.

"How did you know that?"

Adrian disliked the feeling that he was being followed because not only did it invade his privacy, it made him feel as if he was blind to his surroundings, "how did you know I was in Pinyon Pines?"

Craig briefly looked at the ground, "We went looking for Deran. We heard from someone you were down there so Pope went to bring Deran back except-except you were there alone."

He couldn't remember even leaving his room. Let alone the motel. Who spotted him?

"Man, are you following me?"

The thought of that made him want to curl up on the ground and just hide in some crevice that would provide him the security that he desperately needed.

"Dude, I was worried about you and Deran. I've never seen him so off edge. I wanted to make sure that he wasn't going ape shit on _you_." Craig tucked a strand of hair that fell across his eye, "I mean, there's Pope bad and then there is Pope bad. Deran looked like he wanted to kill someone, man." Craig shook his head , "Deran looked like he wanted to kill himself."

Which surprised Adrian into silence.

Deran would-

He was reckless but not stupid.

"He wouldn't do that."

_I need to be okay._

_Deran needs you._

Craig sighed as he started to stretch his legs in front of him, "Yeah, well you tell me the next time what you're gut is saying when you find Deran standing over a pipe line and he looked like he would have fell if we didn't grab him off of the ledge." Craig lifted his foot off of the ground and then shoved it just as hard into the sand. "He said that he liked standing up so high," Craig bristled, "it wasn't even that, man. He can be careless but not stupid."

Adrian felt like Craig was repeating his thoughts.

Deran was reckless, not stupid.

"Like, we've done a lot of diving and gliding man, but it wasn't like we didn't take care of ourselves," another kick into the sand, "But he was just standing there, head down-I was watching him for five minutes and he never moved. Like he was thinking about whether he should just-fall."

That wasn't Deran.

"He lost it, man. When we were driving back home, he lost it."

_I need to be okay._

"Like, he kept screaming at me to stop the car-before I could even, he pulls open the door and falls out," Craig leaned over to grab a rock that obstructed his kick, "I pulled over and Deran was just-he was just freaking out. He was just walking back and forth, everytime I tried to even grab him, he moved ten steps back-like he thought I was going to hurt him or something. But it wasn't even that, he looked at me like he wished I'd hurt him. I mean, I almost punched him in the face when he started to mutter random shit."

"I've never seen him like that. So out of it. On edge. That wasn't Deran. Man, that wasn't even a person."

Craig lunged his hand back and loosened his fingers as the rock flew in the air, landed somewhere far off in the distance.

Adrian watched as Craig continued to watch the trajectory of the rock he just displaced. Even as it went far out of sight, Craig didn't look away.

"I've never seen him so-" he paused, as if the word was something he couldn't grasp.

Adrian didn't understand.

Deran wasn't stupid.

"Broken." Adrian finished.

_Deran needs you._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

  
"Let's go."

Craig looked irritated as he looked up, "what are you talking about, man?"

Pope had a gallon of water under his pit, "Smurf wants us back," he picked up his bag and hung it over his shoulder, "If we start now, we can get back before morning."

"We haven't done shit here, man." Craig huffed, "what the hell."

Pope walked up to the opposite side of the truck and lifted what appeared to be the others' bags, as if this wasn't debatable.

If Smurf wanted them back, it was non-negotiable.

"No," Pope itched at his ear, "J get your stuff. You're riding with Craig and me. Put your bag in the backseat." Where he was supposed to sit.

Adrian's attention piqued.

Deran appeared from the side with his own bags in his hand, but he avoided eye contact as he pulled the side door. If Adrian was being honest, he wasn't honing on him anyway.

Craig picked up on it too. He glanced at Adrian before tugging at his hair as he asked, his voice wavering, "What about Adrian?"

Pope turned to look at Adrian as he settled the bags down, reaching over to adjust the zip line on the sheet of the hood, "There are two cars," his voice was monotone, "he can ride with Deran."

His voice was clipped.

No discussion.

  
And Adrian wasn't going to. Pope had a demure that oozed 'when I can get away with it, I will get away with it.' Not that the others didn't, but he was the only one who wasn't full of shit. He meant what he said and he truly believed what he said. Pope never gave him an impression that he was putting on a front.

Prior to him going to jail, Pope was always different. He was more determined but it was a quiet determination which was always more detrimental and dangerous. Adrian was always wary around Pope because it wasn't like he hid his intentions, he just circumvented around them so no one could notice it.

Pope was frightening not because he was blunt but because there was so much genuininety in his demeanor.

Jail? He hadn't seen him in years and when he had a brief interaction with him, it wasn't like the Pope he remembered. It was as if Pope found a way to actually make himself appear more -

Macabre.

Not only was there no more room to be covert but there was a deep desire to be overt. It was frightening to say the least, since he had the impulses of a jacked up-late-30's man. Which were basically none since he appeared as if the determination morphed into revenge. Vengeance was always detrimental when there was no grasp on control.

It made him that much more-

Dangerous.

"Okay." He responded, wanting Craig to stop glaring at him as if he's grown an extra head, "I'll get my stuff." He motioned towards his room, as he took a couple of steps forward until he found his pace.

Before he could be a safe distance away to truly absorb anything, Pope had muttered, "I already got it." Which stopped Adrian in his tracks.

He turned not because he wanted to but because having his back turned to Pope meant that he had the upper level; that somehow would indicate to Pope that he's reeled in his prey and that whatever he said or did could only entrap him further into his own oblivion.

Deran, who Adrian decided had already sat somewhere in his truck and tuned out this discussion, had appeared on Pope's side, with Adrian's duffel bag, leveling contact with Pope as he clasped onto the handles as if he was radiating his emotions into his grasp.

He had his hands to his side, palms clenched, his back to Adrian and both Pope and Deran spent the next couple of seconds just looking at each other.

It reminded Adrian of a segment he watched a while back. Two prime-headed deers, grazing themselves by behooving their antlers to determine who was more stronger than the other. It was almost exhilarating as it was nerve-wrecking; because an animal's primal instinct is to win at no cost and watching Deran and Pope- it seemed as if the same idea applied to them.

Two rabid animals trying to dominate one over another. Trying to implement their territory. Trying to test one another.

Neither of them wanted to back down but just like in any testament of trying to showcase one's prowess, one was always less stronger than the other.

He would have usually known who would that would fault to but standing there, watching as both stood their ground, maybe a couple of inches apart, gritted teeth, resolve in ever fiber in their body-it was beginning to become a debatable choice.

The tension was immensely tangible that Adrian felt like he could take an axe and swiftly slice it through the air and it would actually cut.

What caused Adrian to feel slightly off was the fact that Deran's back was to him. He could definitely see Pope and his stance-yet Deran, it was as if was picturing what he thought he would see yet had no idea if that was even the case, because-

It didn't seem like neither of them was going to back down. If anything, Pope drew in his brows as if he wanted to mock Deran but drew them back when he became aware of something; like when deer prods its antler in an early defense yet realizes that the opponent was not as easily frazzled.

Pope had taken a step forward and he grazed his head around until Adrian noticed that it was some sort of sizing-up mechanism; to test the waters, to push Deran's buttons- to see if he would just break by ridiculing him by lowering his stature and looking at him as if he wanted to ridicule him-as if he wanted to call him out on his bullshit.

Pope was good at doing that because sometimes it seemed as if he was the only one who had nothing to gain by putting on a facade.

He was who he was.

J had stood somewhere far off to all of them, shoulders slouched and his hands in his sweatshirt's pockets. He looked as if he was braced to step in but at the same time, had the demure of one who knew that there was nothing he could do for the imminent fight that would transpire.

Adrian felt like the joke was on him; not only did it feel like the tension seeped into the atmosphere, it permeated through every crevice of his flesh and increased his palpitations.

Maybe Deran and Pope were having some crude territorial confrontation but Adrian felt like he was being hung by his legs and poked at. Maybe those two were the deers heading butt with their antlers but he felt like the prey that would divert their attention and conglomerate for a common cause.

It seemed rather pointless to have to be so prudish over such a meaningless thing- which Adrian hoped would just decease since neither of them were getting anywhere other than looking like coked-up men from the states who had a complex.

He wanted to step in and say something but he was barely a pacifist pit bull.

If he were to come in between them, he was sure that the visceral brokenness he felt would actually become tangible.

So he did what he thought was the obvious thing to-

He walked so fast that he was surprised at how Deran flipped his head around when Adrian went to tug on the clutch of the bag from his hands. He tugged until It tore from Deran's grip-he hadn't looked at his side to notice the way Deran's face morphed but he was sure he surprised someone into silence.

He walked to the familiar truck and opened the passenger door, placed himself on the seat, placed his duffel on his lap and shut the door as he looked forward, past them and focused on the road ahead of them-

As if he was saying, there. Let's fucking go.

The pounding in his ears only grew louder when he could see from the edge of his eyes, the familiar figure who he felt like he would rather not have to be in company for the next lifetime if he possibly could, open the door-paused-lunged himself into the seat and started the engine.

Adrian looked away.

The silence was so deafening that he heard every slight movement. The way Deran gripped onto the steering wheel, the way his knuckles cracked at the force used, the way he let out a small gruff-

But most importantly, the way Deran would try to say something but the words just fall short. It was like a whimper but that was a feeling he wanted to believe Deran was unfamiliar with.

Soon, the deafening was harshly inundated with the music booming out of the radio.

\---

Adrian focused on anything but what was the obvious elephant in the room. His eyes were glued onto the clouds above him, the way they disappeared as the darkness took over-which seemed quite cynical to him since he felt like he had just opened his ingress into some perpetual hell.

He watched as the scene before him changed but at different frequencies. Sometimes he found himself staring at the grains in the road because of the traffic at the border, sometimes he would blink and the ground beneath them was vastly shortcoming.

The moment he felt the familiar breeze, the coolness that was indicative of how close they were to the ocean, the grainy smell from the local skate shop-

He could close his eyes and the sight would have been crystal clear. He was so familiar with the road, with what turns needed to be made before he would be standing in front of his place.

"You remember when you stole your brother's car and took us around for a spin before he dragged you by your feet?"

The weather was cooler than he would have preferred. He did shiver but the extra fabric cushioned his attempt.

" _Yeah_." His voice was a low whisper.

Adrian shifted around as a slight discomfort arose in his lower back.

"You remember what you told him when he asked you why you were such a punk?"

Deran had reached over to lower the volume of the song playing, before he turned it off completely.

"You said," Adrian clasped his hands in front of him, to ease the aching in his fingers, "that you were just having fun. That you got a kick out of it. That you didn't mean any harm out of it. You didn't have to say that but you did, because that's who you _were_."

Adrian heard a ragged exhale.

"What's your _point_?"

He pressed his fingers into his flesh, smoothing out the slight tremors, cracking some bones in the process.

Adrian reached over to pull the window down even further, hissing slightly when the sand beneath the wheels flew upwards and directly flew into is face at the speed they were driving.

He wiped his eyes and proceeded to look outside, almost hovering his head out the window, just enough that he felt like he had air to breathe but he wouldn't suffocate by the presence of it.

"Craig said-"

It was as if Deran picked up the direction of his questioning, and he made a low growl as soon as the words escaped his mouth.

"Craig's an _idiot_." Deran gritted, his anger was quite obvious in the way every word sounded like a punch.

Adrian found himself resting his hand on his elbow.

"He's your _brother_."

Adrian closed his eyes when the shaft of the steering wheel cracked as Deran had gripped it even tighter.

"Was Craig lying?"

Adrian was met with silence. As if the question was imperative but an insult to his being. As if even him asking something of that sort was not only ludicrous but it was rather stupid. But it didn't make it any less stupefying when Deran responded.

" _No_."

Which shook his core.

Maybe he was some sadist because a part of him just wanted to reach out and tell Deran that he shouldn't have to feel like that solution would be helpful to his situation. That doing something like that in no way would resolve anything.

But he found himself leaning closer to the window.

Because it wasn't like Deran was lying. He wasn't trying to squirm his way out of it. He could have downright refuted but he told Adrian what he didn't think he would hear.

This wasn't some ephemeral adrenaline rush he seeked. Deran had contemplated something much more permanent.

He jolted slightly when the tires screeched to a halt.

His instinct was to just whip around to face Deran-worried that he would be blinded by his impulsive and erratic behavior-

But he found himself staring at an empty spot. He lifted slightly off of the seat and noticed a strand of hair sticking out; Deran was kneeling beside the back of the truck, his hands on his hips.

He laid against the seat and slumped down.

Adrian rubbed his eyes when the thumping in his chest wouldn't cease. He kind of felt like he was about to just pass out from the inconsistent emotions. But he also felt like that he had to say something-

Not because he forgave but because this situation was bigger than the both of them.

He grabbed onto the handle and clipped it back, forcing himself to make the first step out. His legs found footing as he arched his back as he stepped outside.

He took a quick glance around and noticed he was too far from his place. He also noticed that the streets weren't as empty as he hadn't expected.

As if that brought some comfort.

So Adrian walked slowly to the other side, his pace was that of a meager snail, but the slower he went, the more he felt like he hadn't even taken a step. Between the throbbing in his chest and the pounding in his ears, he quickened his pace until he was standing behind Deran.

Adrian peeked over his shoulder to notice the dent in the tire. The rubber had collapsed inwards and there was a concave build in the lower half.

Flat tire.

There was a spare in the back, that he was aware of. He stood a good distance apart, waiting to see if Deran would do anything but he found himself waiting for a while.

Deran just knelt beside the car.

He didn't move.

He hung his head but Adrian couldn't discern whether it was because he was analyzing another damage that was not obvious or it was because of something else that he couldn't put a finger on.

"Don't do _that_." His voice cut through his thoughts. Adrian would be lying if he said that he didn't hear some hesitance and a varying depth of vulnerability.

"Do _what_?"

He waved his hands in front of him, " _That_." His brows etched inwards, "Like you have to walk on glass around me."

"I'm not."

Deran snorted as he lifted himself up, walking to open the trunk, one hand against the holster and the other, on the edge of his tail light. "I thought you wanted me to stop lying to myself," he grabbed his band and looped his fingers through, "you going to take your own advice?"

No lie, it stung. Having to be called out. But if anything, him behaving differently was inadvertent. And it was expected after everything he had been told. How was he not supposed to be careful with what he said and how he said it if it meant that Deran-

That he would go on edge.

 

"I'm not doing it on purpose," he clarified, "I promise," he gulped as he clenched his fist, "if that means anything."

Deran nodded. He grabbed the ends of hair and let the band go through, clasping once, then twice, until his hair was back in the familiar pony tail.

"It does."

As Deran turned to grab the wheel, Adrian noticed the redness at the corner of his mouth. The slit was wider than he remembered. The coloration was back in his face but it seemed short-lasting. Any time he would do anything other than talk, his face whitened. Which said something since they had spent the past 48 hours in a place that felt like they were cooking alive in an oven.

Adrian bent down beside the front wheel and stretched his hands out as Deran hooked a notch into the clasp. He grabbed the edge and shifted some of the weight into his hands to give Deran some respite.

Deran leaned to his right and grabbed a rod, giving Adrian a slight nod to indicate that he should get prepared for the added weight. Adrian returned the nod and implanted his toes further into the crack of the pavement as he braced himself.

The added weight did nothing but slightly deter his balance but he lifted one arm further under the wheel and lifted upwards, Deran hovering over him as he took a screw and clasped in the indents, one at a time, until Adrian moved over so Deran could tighten the last two clasps.

Adrian placed one Palm against the hood and lifted himself up, stretching out the tightness surfacing in his ankle.

"I'm sorry."

Deran swiped his hand against his neck, arching his brow up.

"For punching you."

"You call that a punch?" Adrian knew that it was Deran's attempt at making the situation light but it did nothing to assuage his sense of guiltiness. He never believed to be recognized as someone who is capable of using fists over words because in the long run, anger is always incited by one moment, a physical remembrance. Words ache but are more effective if correctly used. Bruises fade. But words are etched for eternity.

"Don't worry about it." Deran mumbled as he lifted the the tire above his head and walked back to the trunk to place it down. "M'sorry too." It was so quiet, if Adrian wasn't listening so closely, he could have missed it.

It felt unbelievably inappropriate to have to hear it from Deran. Considering the circumstances, Deran's apology fell to deaf ears. Right now, Adrian didn't need to hear that. He needed to hear some sort of affirmation that Deran wasn't stupid- that he wasn't going to do something reckless not because he felt impulsive but because he felt like it was even an option.

"Deran."

He hung his head as he leaned against the frame of the door, "yeah."

"Tell me you weren't seriously considering it."

Silence.

"I thought you didn't want me to lie." His voice, a hoarse quiver. Almost to the point where Adrian believed that if he didn't chose his words carefully, Deran would shut off.

  
"Deran."

He sighed.

"I don't _know_." He sounded exasperated, "Is that good enough for you?"

It wasn't.

"Is that good enough for _you_?"

"Adrian, let it go." His voice was clipped, like Adrian was hovering over a grey line. It was a hazy threshold since the repercussions of crossing that line were always dependent on whether Deran was receptive to being pushed or didn't want to be pushed at all.

"Don't do this, man."

"I told you, I'm not going to-"

"Not that," he interjected, "sit there and sulk, thinking I can somehow read your mind when you damn well know I can't. If you don't want to tell me, fine. But if you need to get something off your chest, stop with the whole hot-and-cold shit."

He expected Deran to not respond because one thing he was good at being was stubborn. He wouldn't necessarily say that Deran believed in 'my-way-or-highway' notion since he had his tail wagging between his legs when it came to anyone in his family. But if he could get away with it, and he was fully convinced that he could, he would display that behavior.

Adrian was just exhausted. It wasn't like he didn't give a shit about Deran at the moment, he didn't want to have to give shits for the both of them in the long run. In the end, all it would mean is that Deran's choices would be inextricably tied to how Adrian responded and Adrian did not want that to be his burden.

But thinking about topping off was something he hoped Deran would not have to bear alone. He just didn't think he had it in him to be a shareholder. He was barely intact and the fragility of his mind did not go amiss. He wanted Deran to be okay but whilst he was trying to get past his own pain, he thought better of it. Deran needed someone who wasn't Adrian. Adrian needed someone who wasn't Deran.

Adrian needed to regain his sanity and trying to comfort someone who had been the direct cause of it was just too fucking toxic.

There was just too much history between them for it to not go to shit. This situation was to delicate to take that risk.

"I don't know what happened."

Adrian blinked.

"I just-I just stood up. Like, I _had_ to." He hissed, "I didn't want to get back down."

He wanted to know why this time, why this time it was different. Why he couldn't just shrug it off like he usually did. Why deran couldn't find a way to just deal. Why this is what had pushed him over the edge.

Just why.

"You're not a coward when it matters, Deran." He had to say it because Adrian knew Deran had to hear it. He had thrown that word out because he knew words had their effect and he wanted Deran to feel a quarter of the pain that he felt-

But he didn't want it to spear his core. He wanted Deran to feel the sting of it but not have it pierce whatever conscience he had left.

"I am a coward."

Adrian felt a pang in his chest as his eyes absorbed the sight before him. Maybe he was willfully ignorant of it because he was so angry but having to see how broken Deran looked-the guy who made an effort to appear more strong than he did because that's what was expected of him-the guy who wore his pride like an armour and made sure no one could infringe upon it-

He couldn't forgive but he could empathize.

"Not when it matters."

"Youmatter."

It was incorrigible.

"What?"

" _You_ matter," Deran hissed, "I was always a coward when it came to _you_."

He was. Adrian had called him out on it. He couldn't refute it because that would have been a lie. But that wasn't what was at stake right now. Repairing them was inconsequential because it not only required time, it required something much more than they both could offer.

"I think that's debatable."

Deran frowned.

"No, stop. I don't want to talk about that right now," because that would make him predisposed to feeling a certain amount of despair that he knew he couldn't direct it at Deran at the moment, "I need you to find your anchor, man. I need you to find it and it can't be someone, do you understand that? You can't do that to yourself because people will always dissapoint. Don't make it about others, make it about yourself."

"And don't be selfish about it. Anything you do will always have an effect on those close to you. You need to find a balance or you're always going to be hurting others and you're going to be keep hurting."

Deran nodded as he leaned against the door. If his face indicated anything, it was that he actually absorbing his words. Not in the sense that he was hearing something he needed to but was hearing something he knew he never needed to.

Like it was comforting.

And that jolted Adrian-

Adrian felt the familiar tug. The familiarity of it was starting to suffocate him.

Like there he was, trying to make Deran feel better.

And there he was, feeling like he was doing at the expense of his own being.

He took a step back until the heel of slipper collided with the edge.

It was all too fucking familiar.

But he stood his ground, had his feet planted shoulder's length apart, mustered up some strength as he responded with a 'I'm gonna walk the rest', even though he felt like somewhere inside of him, he had lost forever.

And he couldn't figure out what.

Which only made him feel like he was drowning and this time, there were four walls closing in on him.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New characters. Fix me on the dates, I'm not good with them.

"Dude!"

Adrian shook a little bit as he tilted his head, trying to match a face with the voice. He resumed back to looking through the shelf, assuming it wasn't directed towards him.

Porridge.

Oatmeal.

Atuve.

Cinnamon and apple.

He grabbed something remotely appealing and shoved into the basket, rotating it in his hand as he loosened his grip. He kicked at the protruding edge, to eradicate the itch he didn't feel the need to lower and graze his fingers over his ankle.

Adrian moved to the aisle, hovered over the crate marked 'box for 2' and assessed the discoloration on the mangoes. He didn't like the taste of it-which could be mildly sweet or overtly sugary but at this price, no one had to convince him otherwise.

He placed the basket beside his foot, picked up the box of mangoes, turned to look for the cart stack, looking at the contents in his basket. He woke up feeling quite lethargic and the idea of exchanging all his contents in his basket for extra space, not only seemed irritating but futile. He tilted the box until every single one of them fell in until hey consumed the other food he had at the base.

" _Dude_." Adrian lowered the box beside the crate and lifted his head up, throwing on a quick smile to give on an impression he genuinely did not feel.

"What's up, man?" Adrian grabbed Nate's extended hand, moving in closer to clasp him on the back before pulling back.

Nate widened his eyes, something typical for him to do, as if what he had to say wasn't slightly over-exaggeration but a rational expression of his thoughts.

"Dude," he enunciated slowly, "did you hear?" The way his voice tipped, Adrian almost snorted, because importance of matter was never relative but absolute. Once, Nate had scurried towards him, eagerly bouncing to disclose something he knew and weeks later, he revealed how he ended up scoring a two month free access to a local paintball grove. Sure, to him, that was hitting a jackpot. To any other fifteen year old, it could have come off as a cool deal but to Adrian, he had more to glean from a good surf.

Adrian shook his head.

"Dude. I was at Trestles, it's almost noon, Greg's got some drinks, Maddie had just landed her spot in the open tour for the San Diego Road Group. Oh man, oh man, she's gotten so good with the jokes and I'm stoked that others can hear the shit that she can just say without having to pull it out of her ass. You know they're leaving for their first stop mid-November? Man, she's going-"

"Told you your sister is talented."

Nate rolled his eyes and feigned a scoff, "nah, I told _you_ that."

Adrian held his palms out and a laugh escaped his lips, "okay. Okay."

Nate reached forward and clasped Adrian's shoulder, "that's beside the point. I'm about to go out for a smoke. I walked to the conch, remember the place where we found that stupid shit Ian jerking off to Livin on a Prayer?"

  
That was an abhorrent sight. There were a group of them scaveging the place, when soon, their attention was diverted to the song radiating out from under a hidden rock crest. At first, they all thought someone had dropped their I pod and the player was accidentally left on. Soon, they noticed the jerking movements, the hoarse huffing, the languid hand sways.

It was embarrassing more than it was pathetic.

"Yeah. I remember."

Nate gripped a little harder, as he leaned closer, looking side to side before letting out a low hiss, "Dude, Tony and Mack were talking about Cat. Remember Cat?" Nate let out a snort, "course you do, Deran and you are joined at the hip," which caused Adrian to cringe because as much as he felt like that glue had amassed to nothing more than a wire coarsing loosely through their lower chests, "anywho, Tony goes about how she's been missing for a while and then Mack goes to sucker a punch and says that they found her but not alive, she's dead dude, they found her _body_."

Adrian was suddenly grateful for how tight Nate's fingers pierced into his shoulder, because he felt like the floor underneath him just evaporated. He felt like heaving but more than that, he felt like someone had just grabbed him by his throat and punched him just underneath his abdomen. Over and over again. He felt light-headed more than he felt nauseous.

" _When_?" He found himself asking. It wasn't like his mind was speeding a hundred miles per hour, inundated with other questions that seemed much more obvious to ask but 'when' seemed like a good place to start. Any answer would suffice.

"Don't know, man. I didn't hear about it till I overheard them. Mack's dad is working at the Gazebo you know? Journalist shit. That's how the dude found out. But like, It's all hush, hush though dude. The cops are saying its an algal growth," Nate snorted, "which is complete donkey shit, when you think about it. I mean, like what's worse? One dead human body or an algae zombie invasion?"

Having to hear her death be reduced to something so simple-that she wasn't the person he remembered, one who had a personality, a life, a family, be reduced to something so generic as a human body-It made Adrian shrug off Nate's grip, lowering to grab onto the basket.

Nate hadn't even noticed, he just grabbed a bag of pears behind him and flipped them back back and forth between his hands, like he was trying to Concentrate but also being amused in the process, by the sight before him.

Adrian met Cat early on. She was always there. If not at the Cody's, she had an inkling to surf some days. It was something they all did. Something they all shared. She never practiced enough to go far in the tide but she never missed a chance to hang out, especially if Baz was there.

For the longest time, Cat and Baz made sense. It just made so much fucking sense that everything else came second. They were always friends and that just happened to evolve into something more when her parents died. That fire-that was fucking tragic. Adrian remembered how long she disappeared from the public. How every bring was just whispers of what could have been.

When she did resurface, you could see how broken she felt but it felt like Baz was always the one who made it appear like a facade. Like he held her together and over the years, she reciprocated that idea.

"Probably don't want locals to find out until they know for sure. Plus, it's not like people are just walking by where they found her. There's a sand mountain covering the sight so like, since they covered all sides, no one gets past to look over, man. What they can't see, they can't question, right?" Nate shoved his hand into the crevice of the bag and bit into the pear, taking another one before he nodded. As if he's satisfied. As if his attention was already diverted by the taste.

"But dude, if I can find that out, it's a matter of time before the rest do. I'm sure they already are. I was walking to Nico's place and dude, you couldn't miss it. Everybody is just talking. Now it feels like it's all speculation but like, I heard Nico say she was strangled. Maddie thought she might have been poisoned. I think we won't know for sure until it becomes like official public knowledge, you know?So like, it's just speculation now. Which like, hearsay isn't facts because facts are facts."

Nate took another bite, "by the way it looks, D-man didn't tell you this shit? Like, I thought you two," the sounds of the gesticulating fruit ricocheted from the buzzing in his ears, "well, whatever. Can't imagine he would have. Dude, everybody must be losing their shit."

Lena.

She's motherless.

Baz.

He's wife less.

"Kind of seems suspicious huh?"

Adrian swallowed.

"What does?"

"Baz. Them. Mack went on about how no one from D-man's fam reported it. Not even Baz, dude. Like, his woman disappears and he doesn't report it? Sketchy, man."

Adrian felt the sudden urge to retort something back, to take Baz's back, to tell Nate to be a little bit more open-minded, but he bit back his words.

What did he know underneath the surface anyway?

"Must have had their reasons."

Nate shrugged, frowning as he swiped his elbow across his mouth, "yeah, but if my ma was missing I'd tell the cops. Hell, if  Rhodey was gone for even a day, I'd call them up."

His dog.

"Then again, I have nothing to hide."

Adrian felt discomforted. Like he was in on something hat he wasn't quite sure he ever wanted to be. True, the family gave off weird vibes. True, he was aware of some of the absurd things they did. But to insinuate the possibility that one of them had anything to do with her death-

 _Shit_.

"Nate, don't be stupid. Are you running around telling everyone this?"

Nate's wandering eyes resumed to stagnancy as he stared at Adrian, " _No_ dude. It's just you, Maddie and Greg."

"What about Nico?"

"What about _him_?"

"How did he find out?"

Nate let out a huff, "I didn't tell him! Swear, dude. I was just going by his place to hang and the conversation just happened. I wasn't offering anything, he had his mouth running." He leaned back and brought out his phone, "Mack said its just a matter of time before everyone's writing about it. I mean they have to dig out the body right? Put it in one of those bags?"

It.

Not her.

"Plus, Mack's got a big mouth. Wouldn't put anything past him," which was certainly true since there were few he knew who couldn't keep their mouths shut even if it was sown shut, "doesn't matter anyway. Small place. Everybody knows anybody, there is no room for secrets, dude." Which resounded more than it should have. Adrian didn't feel like it was much of a haphazard statement rather an astute observation.

There was no room for any secrets.

All it took was for someone to just pay attention and notice.

There was something disconcerting about what he had to say. Adrian noticed his vision start to distort, not only because of the gravity of the circumstances but because this occurred to someone he knew. Not a glance here and there, which it recently has been appearing as, but at one point, Cat was his friend. Cat was the woman he had engaged in a conversation with when he sprained his ALS. She was the one who had made an effort to make Adrian feel somewhat intuned with the Cody's.

Somewhere along the way, he had forgotten that. Like he had forgotten a lot of things.

"The irony, huh? That loud-box Mack has a covert-writing-for-a-career father."

Adrian couldn't disagree because the irony never fell to blind eyes. It always seemed like the biggest joke but somehow, it stirred up a bitterness in the back of his tongue.

"It's going to get him in trouble someday."

Nate walked up beside Adrian, nudging the basket with his knee as he made his way, mumbling a quick 'sorry' as he adjusted beside him, "Yeah, dude," he nudged Adrian's shoulder," I didn't drive down lane but no ones hounding the Cody's door."

Which, despite everything, was something. Or, it could be just the kettle waiting to boil. It seemed rather enigmatic that none of it made sense. Cat being missing seemed ludicrous enough, but having to ponder whether one of them was responsible didn't seem far-fetched. Which did nothing to assuage the throbbing in his chest.

There were many things he could question but that family's intentions never seemed to make an ass lick of sense. Smurf, more than anyone, had adhered to her own rules in a world, in a society that had already appropriated in concrete what is accepted and what isn't. She probably never had to even be a contingent member of the prevailing society because Adrian was certain that she was never introduced to it.

The apples don't fall far from the tree.

They were capable of a lot of shit.

Adrian hung his head a little lower as he felt the oxygen evaporate in his head, the fastidious of it did not go amiss.

"Jesus Christ."

Nate let out a "I know man," before he shuffled his hand in his pocket and let out a low whistle, "Dude." And by the tone of it, Adrian hoped there was nothing else Nate had to disclose to him, because he wasn't sure his stomach nor his head could even sustain any other unheeded news.

Adrian watched as Nate leaned against the crate, hands ridged up behind him, feet cradling the greenish carpet in front of them, his eyes wandering around the store.

"Thanks for letting me know." Adrian was thankful because at his earnest attempt to stay out of everything was eventful and he was sure he would have been just as out of loop as the next person under the self-aggrandizing provisions he had placed for himself.

Knowing this made him feel in some way, connected. Connected to a situation that he was sure he didn't want to read from the stands. From a random person he walked beside. From watching the news. From attuning his hears as he indifferently worked on waxing his board.

Nate took a large stride in the opposite direction he walked from, tucking his hat inwards, "Tell Deran my regards, dude." He stuck out his index and middle finger and held it above his head, waving it unceremoniously as he took another large stride, retreating away from Adrian, "See you around, A-man."

And at his recent disclosure, Adrian hoped it was never.  
\--

He had found himself consumed in finishing every ounce of alcohol in the bottle. The bitterness did nothing but make his thoughts come to the forefront. The moment he felt his agitation alleviate, he quaffed the rest and reached for another beer bottle.

He had his feet flat against the wall, his back rested in a cushion, staring at the stagnant sky as his lips met with the seam of the top. The familiar taste burned his throat and despite knowing that it wasn't helping to assuage his anxiousness, the aching in his chest, he took a giant swing. The back of his throat burned as the contents flurried down. His nose began to itch and his eyes were fuzzing.

He felt sick but being sober didn't feel like an option.

_What in the actual fuck is going on?_

He rammed one foot against the plaster, leaning forward as his chest began to clog. He pressed his hand against his chest and pressed inwards, creasing his fingers to ease the tenseness.

Cabo.

The trip.

What was it even about?

Was it about Cat?

If it was, what were they doing there?

_They had to have known more._

He jolted slightly when the soft clicks against the door jarred his thoughts. Albeit brief, it felt suffocating to have to even direct his mind there.

Adrian planted his hand against the floor and leveled himself up, fixing the seam in his shirt as he made his way to the front of his place. He noticed he was gripping the bottle in his hand, shoved it against the tiled backdrop as he clutched the knob and pulled open.

Adrian focused on the man, who had his hand, clenched, mid-way to collide with the door, his head lowered as he glared at the piece of paper in his hands.

Adrian did a one-over. There was a petite man in front of him, wore a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes; the smile wasn't an actual representation of his intentions. He had a suit jacket, which in this weather, had to mean he was here for business, but once he noticed the well-laid dress pants, the glistening pin tucked beside his upper chest, the business had nothing to do with things he was familiar with.

He glanced at the notepad in his hand, flipped the page before resuming contact with Adrian, "As per my understanding, a Mr. Adrian Nielson lives here?"

Adrian hung his hand over the knob, half his body behind the door and his neck protruding out.

"Yeah," he nodded as he lifted his hand over the frame, "that's me."

The man stretched his hand out, content with his response, "I'm Detective Sanchez, with the Harbor special divisions department." Adrian glanced at the stretched hand and for the better sensible part of upholding some sense of civility, he quickly met his grasp and shook it, "I just have a couple questions to ask you," the man glanced at the small crevice in the opening leading to the kitchen, "May I come in?"

Adrian glanced behind him, held his breath-

He didn't have much options. He could refuse but that just seemed preposterous. He could answer questions the guy had to ask but he wasn't sure if he was going to be taking a test that he couldn't surmise answers for. Not because he couldn't have been objective, he wasn't sure if what he had to say is what this guy wanted to hear. He knew just enough cops to realize that if they wanted something, they would circumvent around the issue at hand to glean the necessary info.

Everything was contingent on the premise of it.

"What's this about?"

The detective itched at his temple, "are you familiar with a Catherine-"

He stopped midway as the vibrating sounds caused him to mumble a quick sorry before he placed it at his ear, pulling away from Adrian.

Detective.

Catherine?

Adrian widened the door, wiping his palms against his shirt. He gave a small smile as the detective approached him, but held his hand towards the inside of his place, motioning him to come in.

He held back as the man walked past him, the scent of his cologne caused an itch to stir on his neck. Adrian closed the door and found himself following the detective as he walked past the small hallway and into what would many consider a larger hallway, but it had a cushion, a three seater and a TV, so it might be far-fetched to call it a living room but that's what it was.

The man lowered himself on the seat further away from the hallway leading to his room. He grazed his hands through the crests that appeared in his pants as he scooched inwards.

"This weather is insane. I've worked in Southern California as a rookie and I've got to say, I'm always surprised at how much hotter it can get."

Adrian noticed a small-conversation when he could hear it. Except this one was laced with intent.

"You'd be surprised." Adrian turned to walk towards the fridge, pulled out a bottle, and walked back into the room, handing over the water to the detective.

"Thank you."

Adrian pulled out a chair from his room, seeing how leveling lower into his cushion would just disconcert the entire conversation. At least sitting on a chair meant he had some civility in their impending talk.

"I know Cat." He found himself saying.

"Are you aware of the fact that she has been missing for 17 weeks now?"

Missing, not dead.

A detail that had much significance than anything. Because at the end of the day, he wasn't supposed to know.

"I've heard about it."

The detective placed his notepad in his hands, pulling out a pen from behind his sleeve. Adrian glanced as the pen swerved into words he couldn't articulate but if he had to take an educated guess, what was written was verbatim to what he had just answered.

"When's the last time you talked to Ms. Catherine Cody?"

"She's not a Cody."

The pen stopped.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't think she changed her name. Cat wouldn't do that."

He held his stare. It was impassive as it was expressive. Which was a conundrum in on itself. It was as if Adrian couldn't see but he could feel his internal emotions. It was the small things. The way he tapped his foot against the floor. The way the detective adjusted his upholster. The way he coughed slightly before he resumed the movement a with his pen.

"Is there a reason why she hasn't?"

Adrian felt like he had been just trapped. As if the man knew. As if he chose his words carefully so Adrian would say exactly what the man wanted to hear.

"No clue."

" _You_ just said that she wouldn't do that. Why _wouldn't_ she?"

As if his innocuous statement was now being held to a testament of his ability to even answer a question properly without reverting to lying.

"Just the kind of person she was. Independent. Kind of one of the last things she has of her parents." Which, as soon as that slipped out of his mouth, made Adrian surprised at this level of spontaneously pulling something out of his ass.

Cat was independent.

He didn't know shit about whether that was the reason why.

He knew that she disliked the word association as just much as the next person- he could tell by the way Lena was barely with Smurf. If she was, under her supervision or stringent indirect watch. Lena might have had the name but that was implicit. Cat had a choice and to her, it was a no-brainer. Being in that family, you could be stripped of every moral fiber and retaining a name could uphold significance that couldn't be articulated.

That had to be it.

"When was the last time you saw Ms. Catherine-"

"Could you call her Cat?" He interrupted, "I just am not used to.." His voice wavered. He's heard Catherine numerous times but hearing out from this man's mouth made it sound informal. It made it seem as if she was a distant person and under the circumstances, she didn't want her to be reduced to that.

"Sure. No problem." The detective flipped the page, "when was the last time you have seen Ms. Cat?"

"Craig's party. She was with her daughter," he didn't know why he found himself elaborating.

Sanchez nodded.

"What did you guys talk about?"

"We didn't."

He arched his brows

"When was the last time you had a conversation with her?" He reworded, expecting another answer.

"Months."

"And," his tone had shifted to that which was much more stoic, "what was the context of that?"

Adrian lifted his feet off of the ground and grazed them against the tile, feeling the need to just be in motion without actually getting up.

"We hadn't seen each other in a while. I just asked her how she was. She asked me how I was. Lena was in the car so she said goodbye and left." He glanced at the ticking clock, every slight movement was ricocheting off of the walls, "that's it."

He let out an incoherent mumble.

"Are you aware of the Cody family?"

"Yes."

"In what context?"

None.

"Friends."

"To all of the young men?"

Not even a bit.

"Why?"

"Let me rephrase. I have written here that you and Mr. Deran Cody have known each other for years. Would you say that you are closer to him as a friend than the others?"

Adrian itched his arm.

"Seems like you already know the answer." He bit his tongue, because not only did it sounds brazen but it sounded like he was going to put up a front to not answer the questions. If anything, he just wanted the questions to stop but not on his terms. It would be just too convenient. "Yeah, we're best friends." The burning in his throat resurged.

"For how long?"

Too long.

"Almost ten years."

"Where were you the night of July 8th?"

A brief silence.

Adrian swiped his hand through his hair and let out an internal groan.

He was being asked for an alibi.

"Out of town. Pinyon Pines," he watched as the pen drifted off of the page, "Motel 7. I was there for a couple of weeks," he began to answer questions that weren't asked but most likely were implied.

Sanchez stretched his palm out as the crack of his knuckles caused the Adrian to lift his posture.

"Were any of the Cody family with you that night? "

Adrian searched his eyes.

Either he was going to verify something the man already knew or he was going to offer something that Sanchez had never known.

"I don't understand."

Sanchez cleared his throat, as he glanced once more at the contents written on the pad, "let me elaborate. Was Mr. Deran Cody with you That night."

Adrian felt his skin prickle.

Was he supposed to be?

He shut his eyes closed as the drift fogged his vision. _Fucking Christ._

_Was he Deran's alibi?_

Is this what this shit is about?

_Fucking Christ._

"I don't understand." His instinct was to just act daft. Because at the end of the day, saying too much is just too dangerous. This wasn't a test as much as it was heeding to the lesser of two evils.

One, replying without any conjunction. It would have been too risky if he seemed like a reliable person to even ask questions to.

Two, being hounded for being hounded. If a cop was at his place, it was a matter of time before anyone found out.

He can't be reliable because then it meant that he would be bothered. He can't be hounded because he had tried his damndest to be invisible.

Just give enough.

Adrian opened his eyes and zoned in on Sanchez.

Again, it was the small things.

Adrian noticed the movement of the pen.

The way Sanchez wrote more than he had for such a terse answer.

He stopped grazing his feet against the floor and Inadvertently held his breath.

"I see."

He sees?

"Why?" He croaked, feeling as if he had just overstepped without even really considering it.

"Mr. Nielson," he began, as he adjusted his hand against his thigh as he leaned forward, "Adrian, can I call you Adrian?" And at that moment, Adrian was sure he could have called him any vitriolic name so he wouldn't have to brace himself to answer questions that he felt utterly cornered into answering, "alright. Adrian, this is of utmost priority that we find Catherine. 24-48 hours is a crucial time in locating a missing individual. Unfortunately, we had recently become aware of her disappearance. In light of new information, it's crucial that we glean as much information as we can. We are talking to all her friends, family, co-workers. Just to cover ground and retrace her steps."

Missing, not _dead_. 

Adrian stared at the heel of ankle to avoid the seering in his eyes.

"You are well aware of a Ms. Janine Cody?" Smurf.

Adrian mumbled a haste yes, before swallowing the lump in his throat.

"I spoke to her recently regarding the incidence. She has provided your name to sustain Mr. Deran Cody's whereabouts that night. She has said that she hadn't seen Deran for a couple of days and that he usually stayed over your place. Is that incorrect?"

Adrian sank into his chair, and pressed the tips of his fingers into his flesh.

 _Fuck_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAH. This fic has was intended to be a one-shot and now it's just ... This. I've never done this before and writing about Adrian has been seriously riveting. To all those who have been reading, thanks! 
> 
> Also, I prefer any constructive criticism since I will never know if I need to fix anything. Comment below or hit me up on Tumblr!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Because my classes start soon!

Adrian lifted his head up when the loud bang alerted his attention. He turned off the saw and set it aside as he waited for their presence to become cognizant. Ed had stopped sharpening the wood ledge and turned to look at Adrian, a small frown morphed his entire face.

Adrian shifted slightly when Pope's stature grazed through the crates on the ground and stalked his way into the back room, where they were working, taking long strides before he stopped midway into the room.

Ed, who had probably never been quite used to this demeanor, had taken a step back, his gaze glued to Pope, but at the same time, Adrian could feel his eyes occasionally glancing at him.

Pope had a rigid face. It was tight in all the indignation areas. His jaw was tight, Adrian could pinpoint where exactly his teeth were rubbing roughly against each other. His nostrils flared slightly but with such force, he sounded like a prodded bull that had a grip on the sound as he emanated.

Adrian grabbed the clasp on his goggles and pulled them off of his head, laying them beside the toolbox as he reached for the cloth to wipe the drops of sweat around his forehead.

Pope glared for a mere second before he swiftly turned his head and swayed his head at the front door, " _Go_." It was tight and it was concrete.

Adrian watched as Ed held his glare. Adrian could pinpoint the conundrum he was probably fighting in his mind; should he go or should he deal with a Pope? The choice was easy but Adrian could understand the conflict.

How do you leave a raging bull in the same room as a flaccid and impetuous hare. Well you don't because the end of the story wasn't any good for that hare.

Adrian wiped his palms with the cloth as he found his voice to assuage Ed's silent qualms.

"I'll be fine. Go." Even as the words left his mouth, there wasn't any conviction in them. Adrian was thankful that Ed didn't pick it up because stalling in front of Pope was as worse as doing anything that would slightly irk him. Like, lie.

Ed was briefly hesitant.

Briefly.

He glanced at Pope but dropped his eyes as Pope swerved his neck to focus on Adrian. Ed picked up his top hat and trudged his way to the front, momentarily pausing before he let out a low sigh and turned around the corner and opened the door.

As the click indicated that he was gone from the vicinity, Adrian was slightly surprised when Pope took the next three large strides before he grabbed Adrian by the back of his neck and shoved him against the plastered wall.

Wasn't surprised as he was alarmed at how fast Pope was at the other side of the room and in a matter of seconds, had shortened the gap.

Pope used his other hand to jab his abdomen, which caused Adrian to groan outwards as the pain reverberated throughout his entire body and left him breathless. He felt the imprint left on his body and the nerves surrounding the area morphed into pins that kept prickling into his skin.

Before he could cough up another breath, Pope pulled him forward and then slammed him once more into the wall. This time, he was sure his head had collided with the ledge of the window frame.

His ear started to buzz, so he shut his eyes closed to muffle the sound away. Adrian clutched his mouth tight shut, using both his free hands to grab the counter ledge for some balance as he felt the heaviness imbalance his level of gravity.

"What did you say to the cops?" It was a strangled growl. Adrian took a shallow breath, even though it felt like he swallowed a knife. He shuddered slightly as he repeated the motions.

Pope lowered his hands and clutched his shirt, fingers prodding into Adrian's skin as he fisted some of his flesh in his grasp.

"What. Did. You. Say."

Adrian slowly rested his head against the wall as he used some strength to stretch his palm out, mumbling a "nothing." And just as fast, dropped his hand on his lap.

His exhales and inhales picked up in speed. As if his body was trying to mimick the rapid beating of his heart. He felt the blood rush into his face, the stinging in lower abdomen had intensified-he felt like he was breathing through a small crevice In a tiny shaft.

"Are you lying to me?" Pope growled, as he jabbed his nose against Adrian's cheek, "do you think I'm an _idiot_?"

Adrian bit his lip, his ribs felt like they were collapsing with every breath he took. It didn't help that Pope pressed his elbow deep into his abdomen, shoving it even further in everytime Adrian took another exhale.

"I. Can't. breathe." Adrian rasped as his hands began to frantically search for something to grasp to level the lack of respiratory mech.

Pope pulled Adrian forward, but he had his head uncomfortably close to Adrian's ear. It slightly helped with the throbbing in his chest but it provided a brief reprieve.

"What did they ask you. I'm not going to repeat myself so talk."

So Adrian did.

"He asked about Cat. When I last saw her-" Adrian heaved a cough as he lurched forward, "-I told him I haven't talked to her in months, that I was out of town and I didn't," another cough, "I didn't know she was missing."

"AND?" Pope seethed, "what _else_?"

Adrian hissed as Pope moved his one hand to grip Adrian by his shoulder, shoving a finger right below his throat.

"He asked about Deran." The words rushed out of his mouth.

Pope tilted his head, "what about _him_?"

Adrian opened his eyes, focusing on the wall on the opposite side of his room as the blurriness only heightened the more he tried to hone in.

"He asked if Deran was with me. I told him nothing, okay? I told him that I wasn't feeling good and that I'll come down to the station to talk later. I swear, man. I fucking swear. Look I have his card," Adrian pointed at his hind pocket, "he told me to call him when I would come in, so he could finish asking his questions."

Adrian hissed as Pope slammed his arm into his neck and held him tight against the wall as Pope shoved his hand into his jean's pocket and pulled out a wallet.

Adrian opened his eyes and watched as Pope used his one hand to open the wallet, pulling anything he grasped until the familiar card with the ensignma grabbed Pope's attention. He wavered his eyes over the card, lowered his eyes to focus on the name and then shoved the card into his hand.

Pope moved his arm away, which caused Adrian to lean against the counter as he curled over the edge, rasping for the much needed air. The prickling in his abdomen dissipated but the throbbing grew to undefined proportions.

Adrian felt the need to grapple the pounding in his head and hissed when his finger grazed over the spot. He blinked a couple of times as he shoved the finger in his peripheral vision.

His forefinger was coated with the Crimson color of his blood.

 _Fuck_.

"When you call them," Adrian jolted as he turned to face Pope, "you tell them Deran was with you. That he spent the week with you."

Adrian stifled his groan as Pope shifted to wave the card in his face, "remember this number and call him tomorrow morning. Tell him that you can't come in because of your work. Don't answer anything he doesn't ask. Be brief and most importantly, make it clear that there will be no need for him to contact you again."

Adrian leaned over the table, focusing on numbing the vibrations resonating in his forehead and down to his nose.

"Repeat what I just said."

Adrian rubbed at his temple, as the vibrations synched with the pounding in his head.

" _Hey_ ," Pope's voice was booming, as it ricocheted off of the walls. Adrian gripped on the ledge a little tighter as Pope grabbed him by his shoulder and sinked his fingers into Adrian's flesh, "repeat it."

"No one saw Deran there."

Adrian whimpered as Pope shoved him into the protruding ledge, "I don't care," Pope let out a low growl, "make it convincing."

Adrian bit down into his tongue as Pope gripped his wrist and twisted his arm behind his back, inching it ever so farther with every word, "repeat what I said."

Adrian hissed as he felt a slight crack in his upper back. Between the pounding in his ears, the blow to his chest, it soon felt like he was attaining a level of numbness.

"Deran was with me. Got it." Adrian rested his head against the skirt of the table.

Pope loosened his grip but not completely. His hand grazed over Adrian's. "Say it again."

Adrian clenched his eyes closed as he hoarsely muttered, "Deran was with me."

Pope moved back.

Adrian laid still, opening his eyes and blinked a couple of times. He kept his breathing moderately steady and listened to the dull drum of his heartbeat. In his periphery, he watched as Pope mumbled a couple of incoherent words. It wasn't as much directed to Adrian as it was his own vocal reminder.

There was a block beside his foot, which Adrian leaned to pull as he found his footing and took a seat. The fastidiousness of the situation didn't go amiss.

What irritated Adrian more than anything was how surprised he was by Pope's act. As if, the last several weeks had somehow blinded him to what Pope was capable of.

Adrian glowered as he rubbed his stomach. He was more angry at himself than anything because of course this was fucking inevitable. A detective shows up at his door and he let himself be naive that an impending confrontation would not be waiting for him.

Why did he _forget_?

That everything was inextricably tied to Deran and that nothing should ever let him forget that.

"Well," Adrian cringed as the voice cut through his thoughts, "tell Detective _Sanchez_ ," the tone of his voice was one that was infringing on the threshold of mocking and sheer bitterness, "you both were doing whatever is that you're usually doing," a brief pause, "I know you understand."

Why did he **_forget_**?

"Loud and clear." Adrian mumbled.

\---

Saturday morning. Usually mundane and generic things to complete. Laundry, which he held off until he couldn't find a pair of clean underwear to wear was a clear indication to do it. Adrian shoved his clothes into the washer and sat beside the frame of his bedroom door, waited until he dropped his clothes into his dryer and locked his door shut.

The drive to the station would take at least twenty minutes. He had phoned in as soon as Pope left, repeating to himself in verbatim as he had been told and relayed it to Sanchez. Adrian was asked if he could meet him at the crack of dawn, as the man had other leads to catch up on.

His wording was still enigmatic: missing, not dead.

At that point, Adrian just gave in. Wondering about things that wouldn't do anything but get him face slammed against the ground, in the long term of things, wouldn't do any good.

He had to remember to just be and not be a willing participant in whatever life had to offer. He wasn't supposed to be so recognized as he was supposed to exist for nothing more than being asked exposition questions and then forgotten about.

Having cops at his place and that being relayed to anyone in this fucking place is like asking for trouble.

He thought he wasn't overstepping yet he'd just been served shit on a platter without his fucking permission. Sometimes he would laugh because he felt like his attempts at being invisible were futile and that the biggest joke was his attempt at trying to be.

Maybe it was Oceanside.

Maybe it was the choices he had made. The person he had inextricably been tied to and finding a way to extricate himself would not only be difficult but downright impossible.

Maybe it was time to accept that and find a goddamn solution that would actually be sufficient enough to get past everything. As much as that assuaged a good part of his worries, the problem that always impeded his strategy from going into full fruition was how?

Nothing was ever simple anymore and the longer he based all his solutions on that premise, everything was inevitable to fail. Leaving town, big mistake. He needed a mental reprieve and distance wasn't going to do that. Hell, having a conversation with him couldn't even do that.

Time could help, it was just a matter of how he utilized it.

Ignoring it-

Adrian walked around the corner of the street, unwrapping he aluminum foil and taking a bite into his sandwich. He had made it last night, mostly to slow the pace at which his mind was running. Concentrating on putting pastrami, cutting up some slices of pickle, layering mayo on surface of the bread, slicing some onions-concentrating on that did in some shape steadily sedated his mind.

Everytime he hovered or stretched his hand out too far, the thoughts came rushing back in. This morning, he woke up to a purple-reddish swollen flesh in his lower abdomen. It was the size of his palm but a little but wider. There were veins that were slightly vending off at the corners of his wound, that disappeared into the flesh of his skin tone.

It wasn't as bad as a broken rib or a swollen eye.

This could be covered.

And even that seemed purposeful. That Pope had chosen to hit him where no one could see because it was tactical. No visible signs of damage when a shirt and a sweatshirt could hide every discolored flesh.

Adrian took another bite to swallow the stagnant lump in his throat. The bread crumbs swooshed out of the corner of his mouth and made their way onto his arm.

"Don't do it."

Adrian stopped in his tracks.

He didn't know how it felt it have amnesia but it was sure it was something like this. He had spent the past 18 hours trying to hold onto words he didn't want to forget, woke up the next morning resolute on saying anything to move past this and yet here he was, gripping onto his meal like it was the string between reality and perpetual limbo, had crumbs all over his arm, and wondering what the actual fuck he was doing.

"I don't know why Smurf said that." Deran whispered but he let out a low sigh, "No, I know why she said that. I think that she's lost her mind and I won't let her drag you into this. I won't do that to you. So don't fucking do it. Just-just tell them the truth, okay? Tell them where you are and don't tell them that I was with you," but all Adrian could hear was Deran was with you. Tell them you were doing what you usually do together.

 

"If they asked why Smurf said that, say that she's fucking crazy, okay?" Deran's voice was much more resolute, "I won't let them drag you into this. I swear."

Adrian focused on the heels of his slippers, the way they squeaked as he shifted his foot a bit.

"Is that an order?"

Silence.

Adrian knew what Deran was going to say.

_Have you lost it?_

_What's wrong with you?_

_You're acting weird, what the fuck is wrong with you?_

_Have some fun._

_Lighten up._

So imagine his surprise as Deran broke the silence with-

"What would you have said if Pope," and there was a low growl as his name escaped his lips, "hadn't done that to you? What would you have said?"

And it was strange. Because there Adrian was, expecting such a typical answer and being silenced when he was asked what he would have done, as if he was being given the opportunity to actually disclose his thoughts rather than having to shut them and just take the fault for it.

That he wasn't being demeaned or asked if something was mentally wrong with him because he had just asked something of a sort that would usually entail that response.

That Deran was being considerate of he situation rather than just trying to question his mental state.

It was different. Adrian wasn't going to lie, it caused him to feel an ache in his chest that he thought had subsided years ago.

"I hoped you would have said that I wasn't with you."

Adrian frowned. That was something he would have never done. As friends, he always had Deran's back. Even as he lost sight of that friendship and what ever they had, had evolved to the extent it did, Adrian never felt like he could ever not have have his back.

He would have always lied for Deran.

"What would you have said, Adrian?"

He would always have his back. It was just ingrained into him. It had to have been.

"You were with me."

"You don't have to say that."

His frown deepened.

"Yes I do."

"No, you don't."

"I have no choice." He began, "Pope's gonna-"

Deran shook his head vigorously, "that won't happen. I won't let him do that to you, ever again. I-"

"You can't promise me that," Because Deran couldn't even uphold one made in the past and as much as he wanted to believe him, he couldn't make the mistake of being that naive, "you couldn't even stop him from doing what he did to me yesterday. How are you going to stop your brother from, God! He could kill me and no one would know it was him."

Adrian could see that Deran was in the process of refuting-the way his lips tilted downwards, the crease appeared underneath his eyes, his breathing was ragged to the point where it was inconsistent. The way Deran glanced away as if he was trying to collect his thoughts, that he was going to say something to just get Adrian to give into what he said-what he always tended to do because he was good like that-he could get away with everything if Adrian let him.

And at this point, nothing has changed because if Deran had told him even once that, 'fine, say I was with you.' Adrian was sure that he wouldn't think twice, his earlier words falling to deaf ears and being quickly forgotten.

Because this was what was typical. This was how their conversations transpired. There was always something to glean and it was the same thing every single time. What everyone else wanted was more important than what Adrian needed. He wasn't going to argue, not because he didn't have his own balls to argue, but because he just wanted everyone else to just be.

"I know what I have to say means shit to you, and I'm not asking you to believe me but I swear to God, he won't ever touch you again. I'll make sure of it." And there was so much genuinety in his voice, Adrian wanted to punch something, "This one time, I won't let you down."

But he had. He had let him down more times than he had ever restored any faith in him.

What was different this time?

"How?"

"I'll take care of that. Okay? I can take care of myself." Deran clipped his mouth shut, opened it a couple of times to finish his thought but then thought twice and before Adrian could even ask him how that was going to work out, Deran jabbed his finger at himself, "It's better me," and he twisted his index finger to direct it at Adrian, "than you."

"I swear, if anything happened to you-" Adrian shut his eyes closed, because he was so afraid that there was too much genuinety in what he had to say and that he was going to give him the benefit of the doubt, not because he had any to give him, but because he wanted to, "if anything happened to you, I'd never forgive myself. That's how I know that I won't let any of them ever even lay a fucking finger on you, ever."

Adrian took a large inhale because he felt like he was being suffocated by the words. As quickly as he took a breath in, he released it just as fast.

"I went to your place after the cops showed up," Adrian opened his eyes alarmingly fast at the change of topic, "everything was the same. You know, they try to fuck us up in some shape, nothing happens. Someone always makes sure that nothing happens. Craig's back to being Craig. Pope is fucking bat shit glaring at nothing- Baz was with Lena, and yet," Deran stopped, swiping his fingers through his hair and tugged at the ends, "nothing was the same. Craig's fucking around with Nicki now. Cat's gone. Smurf went off to god know's where and then she comes back with this, this-this look on her face," he stammered, "and it was supposed to be like everything else. Except, I had a million and one thoughts running in my mind and I didn't have you to go to."

And there it was.

A genuine conversation where Deran wasn't trying to get out of. One which Deran started, full intent on not bullshitting his way out. And Adrian wanted to really grab something and punch and just fucking punch until his knuckles cracked.

Because it felt good to hear this. It felt good to know what Deran was feeling and thinking without having to guess it. It felt fucking relieving to have to know that there was something else-there was always something else-but he had disclosed it without projecting it onto Adrian.

He wanted to just punch something because just having this moment here -just once, made him wonder how different their situation could have been if every single time shit went to the gutter, and Deran had talked to him like his, how much they could have gotten past shit together. How they wouldn't be here, both submerged in feces and holding onto a very thing string trying to just be.

It made him angry.

"You know you were right. I was scared about us. About everything. The moment I even try to describe what you and I were doing, I was scared that there was no going back. That there was no way I can try to fucking forgive Smurf, or Pope or Baz for any of their bullshit because I would have had you. You," Deran looked away, and that was so common for him to do that Adrian just wanted to reach over and comfort him. He clenched his hands into a fist to restrain himself, "you put up with me for years at my worst, and I hurt you because I thought that if at least you ended this, we could still be friends. But everytime you tried to end it, I didn't want to just be friends."

Friends?

Friends.

" _Friends_?" He hissed, "you treated me like shit at the off chance that we could still be friends?" He wavered his eyes to find anything, anything that could level the flaring burn in his throat, "maybe we could have been friends if you hadn't continued to treat me like your emotional punching bag. Maybe we could have been friends if for one second of your fucking life, you didn't displace your anger and frustration onto me? Maybe we could have been best fucking friends if you took every single time I told you that I was tired of this shit, if you just respected what I had to say, taken it seriously-"

"I can't keep apologizing man." Deran's mouth was tight, "not because I can't keep saying I'm sorry but because it doesn't mean shit to you anymore."

Which stupored Adrian into silence. Where was the lie in that? His apologies were meaningless but Adrian had began to wonder if he ever not wanted to hear Deran apologize.

Deran always said he was sorry when he's been indecisive and has somehow projected his torment onto Adrian. Sure, over the years, his apologies were tantamount to his outburst. They were exhausting and trite.

"And that's why it's different this time. I know that now," Deran rubbed at his shoulder, "So go down to the station and tell the truth. No point in lying for anyone."

Which Adrian had been trying to do but was reeled back into being provoked into doing it once more. Yet there he was, being told something that he had strived to uphold.

A reminder.

"I can't just take your word for it."

Deran nodded. "I know." He pulled his arms across his chest, "if I have to fight him, I'll fight him."

Adrian looked away. The sky had cleared out, it wasn't as dark as he had last recalled but there wasn't enough light to blind him. The street lights were still on which indicated that no one around his area would be up. The streets would fill up soon enough. He had to get to work sometime today. He had to call in Ed to take another shift, which he was sure he would just because the guy had been asking for a while now.

The wind was stagnant so despite the color of the sky, Adrian's skin was prickling if not drying out. He wasn't so receptive to the idea of blistering but once again, he was completely daft when it came to sun screen.

As his mind ran to anything but at the situation at hand, Adrian cleared his throat and moved one foot in front of another before he had taken two steps, "I need to get going."

Deran glanced over Adrian's head and tilted his neck, "something wrong with your truck?"

Adrian followed his gaze, until his eyes settled on what they were both assessing.

"I'm gonna walk this one out."

Adrian turned to take another step.

Deran was leaning against the frame of his door, but he lifted himself off and had one foot in, "come in, I'll give you a ride."

Adrian stopped, his posture enigmatic, since he was in the process of walking in the other direction. In the corner of his eye, he watched as Deran slid the key into ignition and revved up his engine, the sound roaring through the silence around them. Deran gripped onto the steering wheel and tucked a strand of hair that fell in front of his face, behind his ear.

Deran, lowering the volume of the radio, slowly glanced up before he swerved his head out from underneath the roof. "If you want to, I'll give you a ride."

Adrian stood there.

 _Want_.

"How are you going to fight Pope?" He found himself asking.

Deran looked back at Adrian with the utmost impassive look on his face, another thing he probably had started learning to master.

Just as quickly had Adrian made that observation, Deran's face morphed into that of one who had half-a conviction as that of a deer who had been spooked by headlights.

"I can fight."

"Not Pope."

"I'll figure it out."

"That's not good enough."

Deran rested his elbow at the place where he had lowered his window, "I don't have a plan if that's what you're asking. All I know is that no one is going to touch you."

And it was as convincing as when a meteorologist had declared that it would be 18 degrees Celsius in Oceanside, California by the end of the year. Utterly disbelieving.

"I don't want you to get hurt, Deran."

Deran glanced at his hand, breaking contact and focusing on what appeared to be a hair band on his wrist.

"I told you, it's better me than you." Hearing it again, did nothing but make that ache in his chest just alleviate.

Because this was fucking Pope. This was Smurf and Pope. They were both trying to give Deran an alibi for some reason. For something that was under investigation. It wasn't something trivial, it was Cat.

"Do you know what happened to Cat?"

"What."

"Why did Smurf say that? She wanted you to have an alibi right ?" Adrian's voice lowered near the end, "did you have anything to do with what happened to Cat?"

" _What_? No fucking way!" He hissed, "we were doing something else!"

Something else.

What else?

_For fuck's sake._

"What were you doing?"

Deran looked away, scoffing as he slammed his hands against his thighs, "I can't tell you that, Adrian!"

" _Deran_."

"I can't." He hissed, "but it had nothing to do with Cat!"

Adrian turned to fully face him, his legs moving until they hit the front of Deran's green-tinted truck, "then what exactly are you going to tell them?"

Deran shrugged, but rather than Adrian expecting him to half-ass an answer, he was surprised once more into silence when Deran began to mutter.

"I'll say that I'm usually at your place, but that you left town. And then, I'll say I went out to a junk yard and that I was going to fucking kill myself," Deran began to nod as if he was content with it, " and that will distract them, right. So I'll say that and then I'll say Craig found me. They didn't ask him yet where he was, that'll be our alibi."

_Oh. That._

"Smurf doesn't know that." Adrian mumbled.

"Yeah, well," Deran dragged his hand and rested it against his side, "there's my story."

"So when was the other thing you were doing?"

Deran paused.

"I guess it's not relevant."

But it would be. Because she's dead. Because Adrian was told to tell Sanchez that Deran was with him for   **week**.

" _Deran_."

" _Adrian_." The sharpness in his voice eradicated any need for Adrian to want retort, "I will not drag you into this. When they find Cat, they are going to hound us. They are going to talk to everyone we even talked to for the past couple of years. I won't let you get caught up in that. You have to trust me on this."

But he didn't.

Because it wasn't about Deran upholding anything. This was bigger than the both of them. Cat's dead. Adrian wasn't even sure if Deran was aware of that and if he was, if he understood the gravity of it. Ask anyone about who each of the family was prone tohang with, and if it came to Deran, he was sure that anyone-anyone, would say Adrian.

He was always going to be inextricably tied to them.

"Trust me on this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS, we arrived at the end. You might be wondering, 'TRUST ME?!?!?!?!' Unfortunately, school is my priority right now so I won't update probably till next year. This isn't the end to this story but it has to be on a hiatus right now. Say it with me- HIATUS. Gah. I'm upset too. Hopefully many more write 'Animal Kingdom' material in the time that the next season airs. 
> 
> I am hoping Spencer becomes a series regular because man oh man is it going to suck if he's not back next season! BUT, I have hope. That's all we can have now. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read this story!! I hope to talk to you on tumblr: Okaywhateverokayyes
> 
> I will always love him and he will always be in my heart. And hopefully in the hearts of the executive producers of this show!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short but I'm even surprised I updated.
> 
> 10/17/16: I added more content.

The pavement grazed the bottom of his slippers. With the heat, he was sure that he rubber was sticking to the ground and the extra effort needed to take another step, started to make sense. Adrian stared until the familiar black and blue huish building became larger and larger in perspective.

"Excuse me." Adrian tilted his shoulder to one side as an officer walked past him. The contact was enough to harden Adrian's stature. Suddenly, there weren't four walls closing on him. It felt like the world was imploding in on itself and no one gave him the warning.

Adrian reached over to grab the hook in the glass door, paused as the translucency allowed him to peer inside. There was a standard front desk, someone was standing behind, a generic appearance, haphazardly flipping through the papers.

At that moment, he wasn't sure if everything around him was coincidental or if he was just that oblivious. The biggest problem that had become apparent was, which had been substantiated repeatedly in the past couple of months, is that his desire to be an invisible member of this society did not in any way hinder him from being an active participant in this world. It just happened without his consent.

The longer he tried to be reclusive, his entity was being used regardless. The cruelest joke was that he was a passenger , and life was the train that was going to go with or without him.

He could leave Oceanside but then what? There was nothing more unsettling than having to re-establish. The prospective of starting over seemed relieving but that feeling was more ephemeral than he had ever hoped for. And it seemed rather naive. Start over for what? What purpose did his life hold ever? What was he even aiming for that not only was it unattainable but it was unsustainable.

In the back of his mind, there was always this constant nag that he had silenced but the past several days, if it had indicated anything, it was that he was too inextricably tied to everything here.

The longer he spent ignoring it, the more hypocritical he had become.

He gripped the metal knob a little tighter and pulled, breezing past the front lobby until his body was masked by the elevated front desk. The woman had murmured a haste 'I'll be right with you, sir.' Before turning around and disappearing behind the corner.

Adrian found himself hovering the ledge, inadvertently honing on the contents displayed across the desk.

Before he could even find himself or his eyes gravitating towards the content he knew he shouldn't be staring at, the woman had reappeared. She pulled the chair right in front of him and motioned with her hand at the voice radiating out from the TV behind him.

"You think it's gonna rain today?"

Adrian glanced back and peered outside.

"Hardly. Never rains around here."

She snorted, "figured. Does he always lie?"

Adrian reeled his head back and stared. What. But before he could palpitate, she had her attention back at the folder sprayed out under neath her palms, "a couple of days ago, he said it would rain. Twice that day. How pretentious huh?"

For a moment, he forgot that he had to indulge in a conversation. Because his intent superseded his civility.

"You're not much of a talker are you?" And the familiarity of those words made Adrian want to not say anything but this woman-this woman wasn't Smurf. This woman was trying to have an innocuous conversation with him and he had offered less words than would have transpired at a funeral.

"Sorry. A lot of things on my mind."

She didn't seem to notice the conundrum he currently battled in his head, but he had to wonder whether as, a cop-the badge plastered on her right, the color of her dress suit, the finesse in which she fizzled through the papers but maintained absolute certainty-there was nothing she did not know.

"What can I help you with?"

Adrian found himself itching at his elbow. "I'm here to talk to Detective Sanchez."

Her lips hollowed out into a resounding 'oh', as if Adrian had said something with the most impeccable yet inappropriate timing.

"Oh, well. He's having the most splendid day," and the sarcasm was so dry that Adrian felt like he was swallowed by it, "you sure you want to talk to him today?" And soon after, the joviality returned to her voice. Like the sarcasm was contingent on this phrase.

"Yes, ma'am."

The smile reappeared.

"Let me give him a call, alright? Mr.-"

"Adrian Nielsen," he had offered.

He tuned out her voice as she picked up the phone and spewed some words. He watched as the words formulated into sentences which made sounds that seemed like they were making sense but he didn't pay enough attention to truly articulate them.

He didn't feel anything at that moment.

Almost incandescent.

But he wasn't even given enough time to reflect and repress.

"He's right around the corner," her voice cut through his thoughts.

He whispered a quick 'thank you' before walking in the direction she had pointed to. He didn't have to talk more than fifteen steps before he could pinpoint Sanchez's stature. He had his back to the wall, almost the same color suit he had last seen him in, but this time, even at a distance, Adrian could see the aura around him that just screamed 'not a good day.'

"Detective."

"Mr.Nielson," there was a slight exasperation to his voice, which he didn't have to interpret as he watched as Sanchez glared at the watch on his wrist, tapping the sole of his cleats in a verbatim manner, "I should have left you a message beforehand. Unfortunately, I've gotten some things to look into and it's a matter of urgency I get there," his voice wavered off as he flipped his phone, "I'm on my way. Yeah-no, I got held back. I'll be-yeah, yes. I'll be there in ten."

Adrian shuffled.

"I apologize that you've come down here so early and I've got to," he pointed out at the door, which he was leaning against, glancing once more a this watch.

Oh.

Right.

"I'm gonna be busy for the next couple of days. The first weeks of the month are ship-in days. I can't get," he had to find the right word, "sidelined."

Sanchez nodded, his lips creasing outward, and morphed into an insipid affirmation, "I understand." He continued to nod as he swayed his head to face the direction in which his attention was directed to, "Well, walk me out?"

At that point, it seemed rather rhetorical.so Adrian found his footing and moved past Sanchez, honing on what was transpiring behind him. The click of the door. The sound of the flat heel, the flourishing novel breaths matching his.

The walk was short to the ingress he had just entered. Adrian glanced to the man walking beside him, whose attention was primarily on whatever was occupying his mind. Sanchez had held the front door open and waited till Adrian took a step down before saying anything.

Even then, it seemed temperamental; like as if Adrian was once again being reminded that sometimes, there wasn't any choice to make since that wasn't even being offered to him. That he couldn't regurgitate what he had been told to say, and as long as he was under this false pretense that ignoring whatever it is that he shouldn't be, the longer it would be take for him to move past anything.

Like sealing a body under a grovel of sand and then pretending like that never happened.

"I was working at the temp post down in Southside before I got transferred to Al Pacio," he had his arms strung across his chest, "having to acclimate myself from waiting for something to happen to having to slow down everything from happening, it felt like I was trying to stop a hurricane before it even uprooted its course."

And the more he continued, the purpose of his jargon had started to slip.

"It kind of felt useless. It's like expecting a feline, then being surrounded by leopards and then being shoved into a cage with a sabretooth. It makes you question your intent." and with the way Sanchez glanced away, it seemed like the effect was no less an illusion but tangential.

Adrian couldn't pinpoint the intention of his words but he understood the effect of it, nevertheless.

It made Adrian feel whiplashed. Akin to getting comfortable with a situation and then being inundated with the unexpected and not knowing how to stop the world from turning on its axis and regaining balance.

This was something he was awfully familiar of.

Expecting a friendship. Attaining a relationship that neither of them ascribed it to be. Being complacent with the bullshit and then being stripped of personal convictions in the process at the expense of wanting to continue something he had always assumed to be genuine. At which point, it was too late to regain his losses when he had no idea how the alternative would even feel. So it was either to hold onto something he was comfortable with or seeking for something he had not the slightest clue as to what to expect.

Then again, Adrian was sure the alternative, despite the unknown, it felt almost pathetic to have to be any more complacent than he had already been.

"I've been on the force for 23 years and let me tell you," Sanchez drawled out a dry chuckle, "this job does not get any less surprising."

Cat's dead. She's not missing.

"I bet." He whispered.

Sanchez stopped beside a black Sudan, lifting his sleeves back to his elbow, before searching for the keys in his jacket pocket.

"You know," Sanchez slid one of his hands over the sill, his focus on the ground beneath him, "sometimes I wish we were all clairvoyant. Knowing what the outcome is going to be so then you know for a fact if all the work you put forth is worth something."

And Adrian couldn't help himself as he slipped out, "sounds like you won't have a job." He wished he knew where the vitriolic tone came from but he shut his mouth closed as he watched Sanchez, surprisingly, stifle a laughter.

"It sure does, huh?" He jabbed the key into its slot, before the corners of his lips fell into a stoic incompasse, "missing persons. The average time before we find them alive is 24-36 hours, depending on the circumstances. After that, you hope for the best but expect the worst. What makes everything more difficult, even more so than time and lack of evidence is the mystery around it. Not because we don't know where to start, but because we don't know how it ends. It's mysterious because that end is undefined."

Sanchez knelt inside, his hand gripping onto the steering wheel as he adjusted into the seat , "it doesn't get any easier," his eyes had glazed as he peered into the distance beyond, "it gets a little more adjustable. Yet the cloud of mystery never dampens because complacency is never fully complete if it's not as typical."

Adrian felt the awfully familiar pang in his chest and he couldn't resist as his palm grasped onto the fabric, right below the ache. He began to knead his fingers in a manner that dulled the throbbing.

"You don't get used to anything in this job and sometimes, you become immune to the outcomes. So yes, if clairvoyance would let me regain my sensibilities, I guess it would run me out of a job Mr. Nielsen." There was no sense of mockery in his voice. It seemed like he was amused, if anything, by Adrian's remarks so it made it a little easier to placate the ache as Adrian threw on a quick smile.

Not because he felt it or because he felt the obligation to feign it. But because his mind had subconsciously overridden his conscious at an attempt to distance himself from within. Like the Adrian who was absorbing the words, despite having heard them several minutes ago, had suddenly realized the gravity of it. And in effect to not overtly freak out, his body has had taken a mind of its own to put on a facade without it really being one.

Reality without his approval.

Felt almost existential.

"The truth of the matter is, I have to work with what I have. It always come at an expense but it's a price I'm willing to pay if there is even a solid outcome," Sanchez smiled and it felt so genuine, Adrian wondered how often he could engage in a conversation with this man without spilling anything.

Adrian was aware of cops and their mannerisms. He was aware of their tactics, not because he found some re-runs on TV and indulged in it to the point where he believed it was an accurate representation, but because he was always surrounded by the one person who was basically the pheromone to their predilection. Like an easy target.

He was painstakingly aware of what lengths the department would go to glean information. He was also cognizant of the techniques in which they did so. It almost felt haste to judge Sanchez based off of one conversation but sometimes words were all that are needed to be said and done before a predisposed perception had already been made.

He was-

He was decent.

Which said much since the last decent person Adrian could pinpoint was-

Was-

His father.

That was years ago.

There wasn't any direct equivalency but standing there and trying to avoid having to be a participant in wanting to find Cat, made Adrian feel disjointed but at the same time, a bad human being.

Because this wasn't about him.

Maybe Smurf could have made it about him.

But this wasn't about him. Or Deran. Or them.

It was about Cat.

It was about Lena.

It was about Baz.

Their family.

The one that was broken under the circumstances.

"Sanchez." His voice was intrepid, like a coarse cutter box that had just lost its finesse, "If you need me to ever come down and just," there wasn't a word apt enough to surmise how he felt, "answer anything. I can try to make some time and you know, help."

Adrian watched as Sanchez pulled on this look, a look so unfamiliar, he couldn't even delineate whether he should be worried or indifferent.

"I appreciate that, Mr. Nielsen."

This was larger than all of them.

"Adrian. Call me Adrian."

 

\--------------------------------

 

Was he being an idiot?

 

One would consider that under his circumstances, doing anything remotely antithesis to what he was told to do, shall be aptly be described as being stupid. But this wasn’t stupid. There really couldn’t have been any choice to be made. This was about Cat.

 

 _24-36 hours_.

 

She was just as much dead as it was implicitly put. It had been weeks. This was a body that they had unearthed. This wasn’t a woman, who had life inflated in her and a will. This was a vessel that’s a constant reminder that a life used to occupy it before.

 

Cat wasn’t missing.

 

Cat was dead.

 

Lena was motherless.

 

Dead.

 

The word fell flat against his lips. It died as soon as he tested the word in the confines of his mind.

 

Dead.

 

_Fuck._

 

He wasn’t going to lie. The moment he became more painstakingly cognizant of his surroundings, he noticed the familiar street, the houses imprinted in his mind like a freshly tainted print press. He knew how many steps it would take before he was at Jones’ house. He knew which corner to turn before he was at a walking distance from the pier. He also knew that in the direction his legs had commandeered, that he was practically walking towards the pale tinted house. The black gates were not too far away and if he focused a little more, he noticed almost every car in the front lot.

 

His feet betrayed him as he made his way to the brink of the gateway, pausing momentarily as he glanced to look in the vicinity.

 

Three trucks. A motor bike. J’s bicycle. The water in pool stilled in a manner that made Adrian deduce that no one was in it. The garage door was partially closed but a small opening was didn’t go amiss.

 

 _Fuck_.

 

_What was he doing here? HERE._

 

It was as if his mind had a mind of it’s own. It was one thing to do the right thing. It was a whole another thing having to make sense of this. Coming to this house after the place he had just left.

 

Kind of felt like there was some purpose that he couldn’t discern as the irony didn’t fall short to deaf ears.

 

Adrian jolted slightly as a click reverberated through his ears. He glanced downwards to notice the unclasp on the corner ledge, and before he could even reach forward, the gate had started to slid to it’s left, making room for him to enter.

 

Adrian pierced his eyes off into the distance. His eyes wavered until he couldn’t notice a figure in sight.

 

Once again, his legs betrayed him as he took steps forward. He wanted to stop but it almost felt surreal with how much control he did _not_ have. Adrian grabbed at his sides of short, clenching his fingers inward to relay himself as he made his way to the opposite side of the garage door. The pool was getting closer and closer, clearer and clearer and the figures that he couldn’t discern earlier, were more overt than usual.

 

He stopped.

 

" _Huh_?" Pope's voice roared to the point where Adrian had to pause, ponder whether he was trapped inside an animal cage with an agitated feline or whether he was standing on the wet pavement that led to the way-too familiar house. 

 

"What the hell are you going to do?" Pope's voice was clipped but he held a tone of indignation and condemnation, like he was waiting to aggravate as well as alleviate, "Did baby Deran finally unlatch from mommy's tits?" Adrian collided his back against the frame, "did you finally pick up your balls from the ground, do you think you finally know what is it to be a  _man_?" The snark was so vitriolic, Adrian found himself clenching his hand, his fingers seeping into his flesh with such force, he felt his knuckles ache. 

 

A man. 

 

It felt so ironic that that was the choice of words that Pope had spewed because where was the lie in that? Deran was trying to be what he thought it meant to be a man. A Cody. A son. A brother. Everything but himself. He projected a version that he thought would give him the validation he seeked. That's all he ever wanted. 

 

And yet. Here he was, being told that there were certain lines not to cross as it would question his manhood because he didn't -

 

Deran didn't comply. 

 

Because you can never be too much of a  _man_. Because everything had to be in such moderation that extremes to them were temperamental and a challenge asked was a challenged ready to be attested to. 

 

"Pope-"

 

Craig's voice was shaken. 

 

"Shut up!" 

 

"Man, calm down-" Craig tried again but to no avail.

 

"I said shut the FUCK UP!" The tension was so tangible, Adrian almost felt suffocated underneath it all, " _you_  think you can tell  _me_  what to do?" His attention had gone back to Deran, " _you_?" Pope said it with such vehemence, Adrian felt himself flinch. There was so much anger in his words, there was so much disdain.. so much contempt.. 

 

"And what? You going to hit me man?" Deran's voice cut through the air and reverberated against every crevice before they rested upon Adrian's ears. 

 

Deran's voice was so-prepared. So, invoking. So, in-timid that Adrian wondered if he was ready for what was to transpire.

 

He wasn't backing down. 

 

He was provoking just as much as Pope was. 

 

Like two animals, using their viscerals to fight for their territory. To provoke and instigate until one just felt obligated and irritated enough to probe back. 

 

Provoking without indignation was one thing. Provoking with intent was a perilous combination. 

 

Adrian didn't even know he was holding his breath until he felt a slight pressure on his shoulder. He flipped his eyes open and adjusted to the sight before him, unclenching his fist in the process. 

 

"Baz?" 

 

Everything about Baz was just, unequivocal. THe creases around his eyes and chin were overtly apparent. The flesh above his cheeks were darker than usual. His eyes were glossy but at the same time, they were opaque. He had his usual jacket on, a pair of blue denims, and his keys dangling from his front pocket. His brows were creased inwards and he pursed his lips to the point where he looked like he was biting something back. 

 

"Adrian, you okay?" Baz still held his grip on Adrian's shoulder, "what's going on?" He tilted his head slightly, more cognizant of what was transpiring behind the wall that was the ingress to the pool. 

 

He rested his brows but it was so ephemeral before Adrian noticed the way he clenched his jaw, the indentation protruding with such ferocity, Adrian had to look away as he heard a slight crack. 

 

"What the  _fuck_." Baz hissed. 

 

He drew his hand back, but it was with such intent that Adrian couldn't find himself to not notice. Baz was temperamental with how slowly he moved his hand, but he made sure to throw in a quick squeeze before he wrestled his hand into his jacket's pocket. 

 

"I don't know." Adrian found his voice, but cleared his throat once as he couldn't articulate what he was saying with the hoarseness that reached his ears , "I don't know." He repeated, not because he wanted to but because he needed to say it.

 

He didn't know. 

 

Baz gave Adrian a small nod before he dashed behind the wall and out of sight. Adrian inched himself forward so he could notice all of them in his peripheral vision. 

 

Pope had his elbow crushed against Deran's threat, which somehow explained the lack of responses elucidated on Deran's behalf but also explained the way the entirety of the situation was much more fervent than he had consciously assumed. 

 

Deran's face was reddened to the point where splotches on his cheeks appeared by white. In no way did he appear as if he was suffocating but in essence, it felt like his whole body betrayed him. His face on the other hand. Deran had his eyes wide open and staring directly into Pope's, he clenched his jaw and he held himself so close to Pope, Adrian wondered whether one of them would just lean forward once and for all and slash the other person. 

 

Pope had one hand tightly pressed into Deran's threat, and the other against his side. Craig was hovering behind Pope but he almost looked perturbed as to how he could step in. He was sidestepping repeatedly, stretching his hand out to remove the clasp that Pope had on Deran but it was futile as Pope used his free arm to fight off any attempts. 

 

If anything, Pope's grip on Deran got that much tighter and that much coarser at any attempt Craig made to move him off of Deran. 

 

So Craig just paced. 

 

He was fuming but his curses were so low, only the movements from his lips were any indication of protest. 

 

Baz ran up until he clasped Pope, circling his hand around Pope's neck and then dragging him back. This only provoked Pope, who, initially had his elbow pressed against Deran's throat, fastidiously wrapped his fingers instead and then pressed until a small choke escaped Deran's lips.

 

At that moment, Craig reached over and grasped Pope by his wrist and tugged backwards, as Pope proceeded to use his other hand to wrestle away the tight clasp Pope had on Deran. Pope was resisting to the point where Adrian's attention gravitated towards his legs. 

 

He was sure that it was just a matter of mere seconds before Pope lifted and drew his leg back to collide with Baz's shin-he just knew it. 

 

Pope did as well. He lifted the palm of his foot off of the pavement and just as he was about to extend it backwards, Baz swiveled him to his left, off-coursing both of their balance as Pope focused on his counteract. Both of them fell to the ground but Deran fell right alongside them.

 

Pope's grip on Deran was too tight.

 

At this point, Deran, who had tried to unclasp the fingers piercing into his neck and suffocating his attempts to just take a breath, had swayed his hand back and collided it against Pope's jaw, repeatedly until it was painfully obvious that Deran wasn't as much concentrating on his target as he was trying to just focus on not choking.

 

The rasps got more focused and more egregious. One was always raspier than the one before. 

 

Adrian felt frozen. 

 

His feet were glued to the ground. His body was just numb to the point where he felt like whatever was happening wasn't happening and whatever he wanted to do, he was incapable of doing. Almost like an existential experience without it actually being one. 

 

He felt himself hunch over as Baz lifted his leg across Pope's body and nudged it against his chest, which gave a small enough opportunity before Craig gave an extra hard tug and Deran recoiled as the air indundated his lungs. 

 

Deran leaned over and implanted both his hands, flat across, shoulder length apart, and heaved until his rasps shortened and they resumed to somewhat typical sounds. 

 

Craig gave a small once-over before he dashed towards Deran and grabbed him by the back of his shirt, running his hand through the back of Deran's hair and leaned forward before he began to mumble words that were jumbled by the sounds of Deran's verbatim coughs. 

 

Adrian's attention diverted to Baz, who, just as quickly as he had wrapped his leg around Pope's chest, lowered but just enough so that Pope didn't have his chest pounded in. Baz still held his elbow against Pope's throat, but it was so tactical that Adrian was sure that Baz's intentions were not to choke Pope out but to restrain him. 

 

" _Calm down_ ," Baz hissed, " _Calm down_ , Pope." 

 

"Look at me, man. Look at me. Yo, look at me D!" Craig's voice rose, he attempted to lift Deran's head up but thought twice as he most likely processed the attempt of doing so, "just take deep breaths man." Craig tugged his hand under Deran's pit and then flipped him over, which seemed to have alleviated something as Adrian watched Deran blink his eyes in such a fast pace. His breathing did begin to prolong, as if he was trying to stop wheezing and just breathe.

 

"There you go, man," Craig flipped his head to look through the glass, "Get some water, J!" He snarled before he resumed to pat Deran's back, "I got you, I got you man." 

 

Baz still held Pope on the ground, it was awkward to the point where it felt safe. It was just limbs all in a tangle but it did seem to restrain Pope. Pope, who had just looked like he was ready to combust, had stopped struggling and just seeped into the touch. In no way was he relaxed but he looked like he was acquiescing. You couldn't even say that as one would never say that Andrew Cody was a quitter. But a pragmatist? That he sure was.

 

"I'm gonna let you go if you promise you won't do something stupid," Baz's voice was tight but so convincing, Adrian almost felt like he was being told instructions, "okay, Pope?" 

 

Pope held his glare at Craig and Deran but he begrudgingly nodded his head. Baz waited until the nods became consistent enough before he lifted his leg off of Pope, moving the hand he had wrapped around the one underneath and then retracted both of his hands all together as Pope flipped over. 

 

Deran moved away from Craig's touch and leaned against the chair before he found his footing. He began to stand up but decided against it as he trudged backwards until his back collided with the glass. 

 

"Pope." 

 

The warning was impervious. 

 

" _Pope_. I swear to God-" Baz muttered as he watched as Pope proceeded to stand up. Unlike Deran, who had found it as a futile attempt as he was still trying to recollect, Pope was on both of his feet and had his glare intent as he made way and held his composure. 

 

Deran didn't wait for Pope to remark anything. His voice was sharp and tight, like it was his final threat. 

 

"You touch him again, I'll end you." Deran said between jaggering coughs.

 

Craig tossed his head back and glanced at Pope. In essence, it seemed like all of them looked at Pope to see how he would respond. Craig held his gaze but then turned to look at Deran as he hunched over and another wheeze escaped his lips. 

 

"Deran-" Baz began but was cut short as Pope let out a snort so unappreciated that it felt like another one of these incidents was imminent. 

 

"Pope-" Baz groaned.

 

"We'll see about that." It was a jibe that was intended to pierce and with the way Deran snapped his eyes open wide, it seemed to have done its purpose.

 

Deran coughed. 

 

"You _will_." Deran tossed his head back, his eyes still focused on Pope.

 

 _You will_.

 

_Touch him again, I'll end you._

 

It felt so egregious, Adrian found his footing as he moved backwards and turned around the corner. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adrian, my dear child. Why do I love YOU so much?
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some J and then there's some Craig.
> 
> Let me know what you think!

“I think my mom and,” J itched at the sole of his foot, clearing his throat in an almost dismissive manner before he resumed to leaning back against the ledge. He inched his head slightly forward but he focused intently on the pier. The clearing of his throat did nothing to assuage Adrian that J would finish his thought but was nevertheless, honing on every word when they did come out.

“I think,” J started again before huffing in frustration, “I think Baz and my mom had something going on.”

There was something innately perverse about it despite Adrian being keenly aware of the fact that there was no blood relationship between them. It was just the mere fact that if something were to transpire between Julia and Baz, what couldn’t be more perfect and apt for it to have happened in the same household as Smurf-I mean talk about pulling a blind on a blind horse.

Adrian couldn’t respond because it would have been unfair to somehow acknowledge through his demeanor that he _understood_ what the assumption entailed. Because no, he quite frankly didn’t. As far as he was concerned, his parents weren’t remotely on the spectrum of having some sort of refractory relationship; they met well beyond their years and they never shared a household up until they did, which was in their late twenties.

This was entirely something else.

 Sometimes Adrian wondered whether it meant anything to truly get one’s conflictions off of their chest. For sure, he could tell by personal experience that it was never truly a cathartic reprieve. If anything, it felt like the burden had somehow shifted onto someone else and soon as he was cognizant of that, he felt twice as worse than he did before it was out in the open.

Thoughts are sometimes meant to be just thoughts. Once they were out in the open, they were always open to interpretation. To preconceived notions. To _judgement_ and sometimes, Adrian didn’t think he even had the privilege of casting one since he would be a prime example of a hypocrite. Who was he to judge when he has done enough shit and dealt with enough shit in his life that no one would or should have to rationalize. Who was he if not a tangible learning experience. Anyone could take a look at him and remember that _it’s best not to say than to observe as if one shall voice their judgements on oneself, thy have opened up an ingress into hell._

            Or something like that.

            He was sure that he had read of that somewhere.

            “Sorry about that.”

            “Why?” J had kicked his leg out in front of him, “It’s my problem.”

            Adrian tilted his head, “I don’t think it should be something you have to deal with on your own, man.”

            J winced slightly and before Adrian could even ask why, J jabbed the heel of his foot onto the tarmac, crunching his brows inwards as if whatever was circulating inside his mind was too combustible for him to just keep it within.

            “I think he’s my _dad_.” There was so much confounding undertone in his voice, Adrian felt like he was inundated by it.

            Father.

            He never wondered whether J knew his father but it should have been somewhere on the, if not, top of his mind. He knew Smurf couldn’t have been the kid’s only option, unless two scenarios were at play. One, Julia didn’t tell J who his father was so Smurf was the obvious next of kin. Two, Julia didn’t know who J’s father was and therefore had no reason to provide answers to questions she truly did not have solid answers to and Smurf was the next of kin.

            Adrian pulled his sweatshirt up against his neck, letting the creases dessicate the dampness on his skin.

            “Well,” Adrian’s voice was a bare minimum whisper, “ _Shit_.”

            Or three, the identity of his father was too pertinent for either Julia or Smurf to consciously acknowledge and disclose.

            “Yeah.” J’s voice was just as a low, maybe even lower, “Shit.” He repeated, as if the word was apt enough to surmise the entire situation.

            Adrian leaned over as he gave J’s shoulder a quick squeeze. J gave a meek smile in response but it fell as soon as it appeared. Now, Adrian was sure there was nothing he could possibly say to placate whatever turmoil J was battling. It was one thing to believe that Baz might have had some history with his mom, but for him to actually be his father?

            On what world that would have made sense was inconceivable.

            “I asked him.”

            What.

            “What?”

            “Baz,” He elaborated, “I asked him if he was my dad.”

            And at the tone of his voice, Adrian could sense the response he received.          

            J rubbed at his ankle, “I’m just a stupid kid who has too much time to think about shit,” he let out a snort, “That even if I were his kid, it shouldn’t matter.”

            Adrian frowned.

            “Baz said that?”

            J whipped his head, “Why _wouldn’t_ he?”

            “J-“

            “I **don’t** care.”

            Adrian paused.

            “I just don’t,” J clasped his hands across his chest, threading his fingers together in contemplation, looking at his knees as he let out a low huff, “I _don’t care_.”

Adrian felt himself redrawing his hand to give J a light pat.

 _I don’t care_.

The very fact that he was saying he didn’t care meant that he _did_ care. The very fact that he felt like this was something he needed to say meant that J not only cared, it meant that there was a part of him that was being consumed by this notion. There was nothing worse than being internally decapitated by an assertion that had not only validity, but substance.

“I’m,” Adrian began but stopped when J shook his head in a deficient manner, grazing his fingers at the flesh on his elbow, tilting his head to give Adrian eye-contact, “sorry.” Adrian finished. J held an impassive expression but he nodded, as if he absorbed the word, but it did nothing to assuage him.

At that moment, Adrian wished there was anything else he could say to just eradicate the kid’s anguish.

Apologies held no meaning if they didn’t entail a solution. They were just words that brought ephemeral reprieve. They were useless in the larger scheme of things.

A moment of absolute silence dawned on them for the minutes that followed. Adrian shoved his hand in his hutch, playing with the dull deposit at the head of the blade of the screwdriver. Suddenly, Adrian began to check of a list that was ingrained somewhere in the crevices of his mind. Because if he focused on anything else, anything that held significance to his self-entity, he would have a million and one thoughts and not one of them would be conducive to his sanity. Which at this point, he wasn’t sure if he had any left.

 He had to make a deposit on the water and electricity bills. Last month, there was a carry over since he was short a meager thirty or so dollars and another added fine was seamlessly tasked in the utility notice. It shouldn’t be a problem, he masked. Adrian could always use the cash he saved if there was a net pay; there was always a safety net.

  He was sure that Ed would have restored the hinge on the back shed. Just to make sure, Adrian pulled out his phone and aimlessly typed up his question, disposing of his phone in his shorts’ pocket as soon as the text was sent.

There was nothing in his fridge, that he was sure of, his stomach growling at the thought of not having consumed any food hours prior. If it growled any longer, Adrian was sure he would surely remember sometime in the next ten hours. If it growled any louder, Adrian was confident that he would at the very least, consume the oaks bar somewhere in his dashboard.

Food. Check. Payments. Check. Ed. Check

_What else? What else._

“What’s that?”

Adrian bristled quietly as the voice cut through his thoughts.

He looked down at what J was pointing at and withdrew his hand with the tiny piece between his fingers as he brought it up for closer inspection.

“Capacitor.” Adrian stated, matter-of-fact.

J blinked. His eyes gazed down at the tool box, wavering as he assessed all the contents.

“Resistors, LED, knobs,” J noted, “What kind of radio are you trying to make?”

Adrian was almost surprised by his astute and correct observations. Almost. If he had learned anything in the past several months, the kid was smart. Not smart to get through life, but smart enough to manipulate life. Life was a game and J was for sure a player who knew how to wield the game-hopefully, Adrian wished it benefited him at every turn. Every single turn. Especially if it meant that his living situation would maybe one day be concretely established in Oceanside.

“It’s an old intercom unit,” he answered, as he began to retrieve the objects, piece by piece, and placing them on the pavement between them.

“A stereo, you mean?”

Adrian smiled.

_Jesus Christ._

“Yeah.”

J let out a small chuckle, “Why would you learn something like that?”

“You’re judging me on _that_?” Adrian feigned being insulted, whisking the pieces against his side, “Really, dude?”

J snorted.

“I guess I should have known,” J responded, the joviality genuinely resuming in his voice, “When you told me that you fine-tune the position of a goddamn peak.”

“Dude if the wave is breaking, even half a meter off will screw up your ride. If anything, everyone should know how to do that shit in the back of their minds.”

The moment the words escaped his lips, Adrian broke out into a grin because, let’s face it, he knew just how absolutely delirious he sounded about his particularities. Adrian and J caught eye-contact for a brief second and that was all it took before they broke out in laughter.

There were a little of things he just subconsciously did when he went out to ride a wave. He wasn’t truly aware of how keen he was on making those observations, as he assumed that it only made sense since he had been surfing for years but outside looking in, he could see how not unassuming it would be.

“Okay, okay,” Adrian placed his palms up in the air, in resignation, “I deserved that.”

J hovered his hand over the coil, picking it up and placing it in the palm of his hand. He turned to face the hutch, leaning over as he pulled out another pertinent piece for the stereo.

Adrian guessed that this was what it meant to have to displace emotions. J wasn’t necessarily displacing his frustration onto another person but he somehow morphed it into something that would distract whatever he needed to distract. The kid was so-he was so similar to how Adrian dealt with shit, a part of him felt like he wasn’t the only one knowing how to just feign anything at the off-chance of not having to confront demons. At the same time, his chest ached at what that notion entailed.

It was always going to be a struggle. He couldn’t escape his demons from within.

But J was so- _so_ distracted, it was almost believable.

It was commendable.

If that was what elucidated a reprieve, Adrian wasn’t going to contest.

“Wanna learn?”

* * *

 

Adrian placed the clutch in its rear, grabbing onto the steerwheeling as he pulled to a stop.

The familiar place in his peripheral vision almost invoked some sort of emotion but he suppressed it just as it fast as it surfaced.

“Thanks for the ride.”

Adrian nodded.

Yet J didn’t make any attempt to get out.

Like his body betrayed his convictions.

“Something wrong?” It almost seemed rhetorical to ask but it felt compulsory to do so.

There had to been something always wrong in this family.

J didn’t answer.

He held his hand, grasping onto the door handle but made no attempt to pull on it.

“J.” Adrian tried again, but to no avail.

J had his back to Adrian so Adrian really couldn’t discern what was happening but even if had a clear access to his face, Adrian was sure that the kid could hold a stoic look so impassive that he would beat Pope’s by a landslide.

But it was the little things that Adrian was keenly aware of. It was the slight nuances that he had personal experience with displaying. He could have the most indifferent look on his face and Adrian would focus on anything but. The manner in which he looked away at the very thought of something troubling him. Patterns. There were always patterns that were consistent. They would always be.

“J-“

“I need a job.”

A job.

“Ok.”

“Do you need extra help around your shop?”

Adrian paused.

“Like, I can take whatever you can pay me.”

_A job?_

“Do you need cash for something?”

J frowned, “No, I need a job.”

“Okay.” He repeated. Not because he didn’t have questions to ask, but because he knew they would be left unanswered, so he gave a meager nod.

Adrian watched as J turned to face him, observed him for a couple of seconds before he turned to pull on the knob as if he was satisfied with the response, or maybe even, lack thereof. Maybe it was the look on his face. Adrian was pretty sure it was some version of disbelief and confusion but if it meshed into anything, it was probably him looking indifferent because when emotions conglomerated to mesh into one, he always had a niche to make it appear… _unassuming_.

Cash. Job. Baz being his father?

Felt like they were all somehow interrelated and yet he couldn’t even begin to understand how. Adrian gripped the shaft a little tighter. It was more than that. He knew it was more than that. It was how he had begun to internalize almost everything nowindays. He was starting to regress to this notion that ‘out of sight, out of mind’. Maybe that was the case in certain situations, but he felt like a complete hypocrite as soon as he began complacent with even accepting that notion.

Out of sight was not out of the fucking mind.

If anything, it was deeply ingrained into his fucking mind.

Adrian nibbled on his lip.

Maybe he was slightly relieved at being able to discern that it was something he was beginning to do but at the same token, he felt like he was failing as a human being. To live and to learn. That’s part of the human experience. If he made the same mistake twice, or in his case, for the umpteenth time, when was he ever going to learn? Was complacency so easy because he had rationalized it for years. That this time it meant something. That, this time, it would be different. That if he were to not give this a chance, he would regret it. That there will always be an excuse to re-learn his mistake. It wasn’t like he wasn’t tired of having to learn the same lesson, it was that he felt like he didn’t know any different.

Out of sight, was not out of his _fucking_ mind.

“Yo, Adrian!”

Adrian briefly closed his eyes.

“What you doing there, man?” Craig waved his hand to motion him to come his way, “Get in here, dude.”

J had been on the other side of the gate but he turned as soon as Craig had talked. Adrian caught his glare, the almost ‘I’m sorry’ dude gesture that washed over his face before he began to take strides toward Craig.

“Don’t be a dick, J. Invite A-man in!”

At second glance, Adrian realized that Craig was relatively drink. Relatively.

“Hey man.” Adrian found his voice.

Craig pushed open the gate, and Adrian soon noticed the bottle that Craig had stuffed into his waistband. He almost laughed but he couldn’t get it past the lump in his throat.

 _Fuck_.

“No, _man_ ,” Craig wore a lazy smile, “I said come in. Dude, I insist.” He tugged on the door and to Adrian’s misfortune, he hadn’t thought to locking his truck, “Smurf’s out. It’ll be me, you, J-man and Nikki.”

Right.

They were-

Together?

Fooling around?

Fooling around.

Adrian peered over Craig’s head to glance at J, who had his hands in his pockets, a really wary look washed over his face.

“ _Adriaaaaaaan._ ”

“You’re drunk, man.”

“Well, shit,” his voice piqued up, “I knew you had the brains for the lot of us, man.” Craig wore a grin so wide, Adrian wondered whether it would actually cut through his flesh, “Dude, get a beer. Hang for a bit. Go back to your ESPN shit afterwards, alright? We haven’t seen your ass in weeks, man.”

Had it been weeks?

 _If you lay a hand on him, I’ll end you_.

_You’re going to tell me what to do?_

Yeah, it had been weeks.

Sometimes he would remember how it felt to have his neck crushed under the weight of Pope’s grip but it was almost an unreachable memory.

Like someone had kept their promise and Adrian didn’t know what to think of it.

“Pope’s not home,” Craig continued, as if they were what Adrian wanted to hear and a part of him did but at the same time, a part of him couldn’t care less because he was sure of his conviction to not have a drink.

Craig reached over, scrunched his eyes as he peered at the lanyard hanging off of the rear mirror, flicking it away as he relaxed into the cushion, letting out a groan, “You changed your covers, man?”

No, no he hadn’t.

Adrian turned the key in the ignition, wanting to implicitly and maybe even explicitly say that ‘hey, no drink. Thanks for asking’ but maybe Craig was being conscientiously obtuse but he seemed to relax even further as he pushed his seat back and ran his fingers through the grips of his locks.

Craig lowered his hands from his chest and then his fingers disappeared beyond his waistband. Adrian looked away as Craig pulled out the bottle and took a rather larger sip, wiping his mouth with the back of his palm.

His gulps masked the silence.

“Deran’s not here, either, man.”

Craig said it with such temperance, Adrian bristled.

“Craig, I don’t-“

Craig huffed as he lifted himself upwards, “Dude, you say that and the moment you see him, your balls shrivel up and you look like a deer caught in the fucking headlights.”

Adrian felt slightly insulted.

“What are you trying to get at?” He growled. Because to him, there was no point to be made. He didn’t give a fuck if Smurf was there. If Pope was there. If _Deran_ was there because their effect had diminished on him. Not in the sense that he would feel the need to say anything back if he were in their presnece but he didn’t feel like his emotions were surfacing from a place of personal conflictions but from a place of absolute indifference. He didn’t care anymore not because he was not numb but because he just didn’t fucking care.

“Are you going to thank him?”

Adrian felt his anger dissipate.

Momentarily, he paused to absorb the words.

But it was quickly replaced with disbelief.

“For _what_?” Because he couldn’t clearly understand why he would have the need to.

“Fuck _you_ ,” Craig responded, “For having your back, man!”

For having his back?

For having his back.

“There you go! With that ‘I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about’ face,” Craig sneered, “What, so he’s an asshole to you and you can’t appreciate the one time he does shit for you,” there was so much venom in his tone, Adrian found himself cringing, “Low, man. Real fucking low.”

What was there to be thankful for?

Was Adrian supposed to just thank him for the one time in the past ten years that he had actually kept his promise? That he had actually done something for him that would prevent any measurable damage? Was he supposed to be thankful because it was the **only** time he had done anything for him?

No one gets a pat on their back for doing one right thing in their life if they have spent their entire existence doing the wrong thing. That’s not how life works. Consistency works. Repeated offenses are proofs in the proverbial pudding.

“I don’t-“

“Right. _RIGGGGGGHT_.” Craig slurred, mockingly slapping his forehead with the back of his hand, “Adrian, off in his shack, waxing surfboards. Going out for a surf here and there. Living in his own world so he doesn’t have to deal with real shit because he doesn’t know how to. Well big fucking news man, if you can’t learn how to deal with real shit and if the past ten years, you haven’t learned shit, you’re not as smart as I fucking thought.”

Adrian paled.

What.

“Hey, man. You want to be living in your own fucking world, that’s up to you. If anything, I’m all here for that shit,” he clapped his hands together as if he was reaffirming the idea, “But yeah, the moment you fuck with my brother, I swear to God Adrian I’m going to forget everything I know about you, yeah?”

Adrian leaned into the seat.

He was sure he was suffocating. He was sure of it.

“So be angry with him,” Craig scowled, “I’m not going to say you don’t have any right to be but don’t just,” he growled, “Don’t just fucking not be a part of his life, either man! Don’t forget he’s your best friend, dude. He’s your best fucking friend and that shouldn’t just _stop_ because whatever shit happened between you two.” Craig took another sip, “First of all,” he jabbed a finger mid-air, “he’s your only friend and news flash, man-you’re his only friend too!” Craig’s voice boomed to the point where Adrian felt like his ears were silently bleeding, “ _twoooo_ , D can be a fucking idiot but he has his heart in the right place man, he really fucking does. I know it. I’ve seen it for the past twenty-three years. Fuck, he’s the best of all of us! And shit,” another sip, “he really cares about you man. He really does and it bothers me that _you_ don’t see it.”

“So yeah, maybe he doesn’t fucking hold your hand when you’re out in public. Maybe how you guys have been doing shit for however long hasn’t been the most normal shit,” the words were starting to get heavier and heavier, “But shit, it’s the most stable thing _he’s ever had_ ,” Adrian winced, “I see the way he looks at you man-I see it and I fucking hate that he can’t be himself with you too man! I hate that he feels like he can’t be himself with you too man but that’s not his fucking fault. It’s the situation he’s in, that _we’re_ in and guess what? We don’t always get what the fuck we want but we do the best we can with what the hell we’re dealt with and you know what that is, Adrian?”

Adrian just wanted him to stop.

“Huh?” Craig roared, “That’s real fucking life.” Adrian bit his tongue until the pain resonated with the dull ache he felt in his chest, “So, yeah, _fuck you_.”

“ _Craig_.” It was a silent plead.

“Shit, I tell you about the fact that he almost wanted to knock himself off and that hasn’t changed shit, so what, Adrian? You don’t even care if he’s alive, now? Is that how much you fucking hate Deran? _Huh_?” Please. Please. Please stop. “Well thanks for fucking let me really know what kind of dick you are. I mean, shit, I thought I’m the fucking idiot but you know what?” _Please stop_. “At least I don’t leave behind those that matter to me, man.”

He was sure he was tasting blood in the confines of his mouth.

"Craig, don't."

Adrian lowered his gaze as J's voice broke through.

"What?" He scowled,  "You gonna go tell Deran that I tore a new one?" His voice had risen to the point where it felt like Adrian was drowning and suffocating at the same time, and his internal pleads couldn't silence any of the words reverberating, "Go ahead, fucking tell him. See what I care," Craig had started to shift but he hadn't made an attempt to leave the confines of the truck, "Also tell him that I was trying to do him a favor. you know," Adrian was sure Craig had turned to glare at him, "Since he doesn't give two shits."

" _Craig_ ," J tried again, "Stop it."

 

"Tell me if I'm wrong man," his voice was lowered but just as much stern, "But is there anything he can even do so you can just stop looking at him like he's the sickest shit you've ever met?  Hm? What does he have to do so you can just _talk_ to him? Because let me know so I can at least help him? Your  _friend_. He's your  _best friend_ and you won't even-" his voice broke, "like, he needs you man. He just needs you back as  a friend." another sip, "I can't help him the way you help him and that's the truth, man. That's the goddamn truth Adrian. I don't want to lose my brother over this, man. I won't lose him over this."

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think it's time for them to just heal? Yeah.
> 
> Deran and Adrian, at their finest. At their new beginnings.

“Thanks.”

Adrian had decided to pull his truck to the street a couple of blocks away, walked through the gates, which were wide open, J who had waited till he returned to have that same look wash over his face. It was apologetic but at the same time, it felt like J was even sustaining the idea. That Craig might have come off in an inapt manner but his intentions were right. That J wouldn’t have preferred that Adrian found out in that manner but as Craig had said, _you deal with what you get-because that’s real life_.

So Adrian gave a small nod. That it was to say ‘I get it.’ J had taken a step forward and Adrian found himself taking a step back.

He did get it. He did understand that this was long overdue. He understood more than ever that _shit_ , _he doesn’t know how to deal with anything_ and that pushing Deran away, was just him-

It was him running away from his problems. It was him trying to refocus to the point where he was trying to just forget. The thing about forgetting was that it didn’t mean that the last ten or so years didn’t happen. They weren’t erased. They were just pushed to the back burner.

So he did understand.

“What for?”

“For keeping your promise, Deran.”

Deran had his back to him, lifting up a couple of things from the corner shed and throwing them against the slat. He had his hair slicked back and tied, and some strands happened to just been tucked haphazardly behind his ear. From his point of view, Deran looked the same.

“For not letting Pope kill me.” Adrian elaborated.

He watched as Deran’s shoulders lowered, stumped to the point where Adrian forgot what that even meant. It used to be that it meant Deran was relieved at whatever he needed to be relieved about but if the past three weeks have indicated anything, anything he knew wasn’t what was actually happening.

A promise was kept. It wasn’t just empty words.

A choice was given. It wasn’t just an order.

“Yeah.” Deran replied, “I told you.”

His voice was hoarse but it was also held with such heaviness, Adrian found himself leaning against the front frame, grasping his hands behind his back and making sure to have his feet, firm on the ground, shoulder-length apart, to not lose his footing. Because, _fuck_ , he felt like he was going to cave in. He felt like he couldn’t talk to him but at the same time, he felt like he needed to.

He felt like for the first time, he was actually _listening_.

And what he heard?

Because- _SHIT._ Because the way Deran had mumbled those words, the ache in his chest metastasized until he felt a lump in his throat. That voice wasn’t just Deran. It wasn’t the guy who had manifested himself in a manner where he put up a front in such a way as to say ‘you mess with me, you’d regret it’. It wasn’t the Deran who had told him that he couldn’t care less if he had left at every moment that they had an argument because even then, Deran would have made sure that his indifference for that situation was oozing from each word.

No.

It wasn’t like that.

It felt like something entirely else.

“Can we uh-,” Adrian had to rub at his throat, because there was a lump that wasn’t just in his mind but tangible enough that he had to stop and clear his throat, “Are you okay?”

Deran had stopped, mid-motion, wiping the cloth against the metal stale. He didn’t make an effort to place it down but it felt like Adrian had paused the sight before him. Deran’s muscles were frozen to the point where Adrian wondered if he was just staring at an inanimate object-but was soon cleansed of those doubts when his mind began to wander on about the words that slipped just moments before.

Those words that felt so broken, Adrian wondered if he had sliced the soles of his feet from stepping on shards of glass that he couldn’t see. Those words cut through his flesh because they were that tangible.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Which wasn’t necessarily an answer to the question, or to any question. It was like Deran was telling him to interpret it in his own manner, like he was giving him the _choice_ to deduce what it meant. And at the very instance, Adrian couldn’t stop himself as he reached over for the stool that was barely underneath the vent, tugging on it until he pushed it underneath himself to lower down.

Adrian let out a strained whimper.

Anything he could have done wouldn’t have stopped him from sounding so sniveling.

Because Deran had been telling him for weeks, ever since he had found out about _his attempt_ , that Adrian could help him if he wanted to or walk away and Deran wouldn’t contest because he was giving him room. Adrian had always thought just knowing that they were in the vicinity of where he lived was too suffocating but Deran wasn’t aware of the fact that, when and if Adrian were to find out how to stop his anguish, distancing themselves mere miles apart was not going to fix _anything_.

Adrian didn’t know what would have helped.

Deran had been deciding for weeks that not talking to him would mean something. That it would help Adrian in healing.

 _I won’t let him hurt you_.

 _Deran went looking for you and you weren’t there_.

 _He’s your best friend and he told you that he wanted to top himself and you didn’t **care**_.

“The night you,” Adrian couldn’t say the words, “you tried to,” he really couldn’t, “do _that_ , Craig said you came looking for me,” Deran had resumed his motions, but he tilted his head slightly. Adrian rubbed his palms against his thighs as he heaved his breaths in a manner where he could displace some off the tension in his chest. “I haven’t been your friend in a long time, Deran. I forgot that that’s whats important in the end of the day. I am sorry.”

Deran moved to his left to place the stale in a container, picking up another one from the box beside it and resumed the same motions. He rubbed until the sounds of the cloth raking against the metal, drowned the silence.

Adrian made no effort to interrupt.

Deran repeated a couple of more times before he pushed the container to the back corner and threw in the towel in a trash can tucked underneath the overhead, grazing his hands through his now messed up ponytail and letting his hair fall in front of his face. It did no good to cover the slight discoloration underneath his right eye. The creases around his mouth had become sharpened to the point where any attempt to hide them seemed futile. Because they were there. They weren’t going to go away. Maybe a couple nights’ rest. Maybe longer? Adrian couldn’t tell. But it didn’t suit Deran.

His lids were weary and the iridescence in his pupils had disappeared to the point where even as Deran turned to face Adrian, the light that seeped through the windows did nothing to lighten up his, what used to be, hazel eyes. They were void of anything remotely Deran. Maybe even human.

The throbbing in his chest had amplified to the point where Adrian found himself standing up, nudging the stool away with the heel of his foot, as he took a step forward and wavered his hands in front of him to indicate that he had to say something and the moment Deran moved to take a step back, Adrian bit his lip.

Because, _fuck_.

Deran never did that.

Deran never moved away from him.

Deran always made an effort to move forward.

Things had changed.

Just how much, Adrian couldn’t discern, because he was  _never_ aware of it.

“I don’t know how to help you Deran.” He started off with, because he truly couldn’t understand that logic when Craig had disclosed it. In the past several years, their meetings have circled around almost two things and they always ended up the same way. Unpredictable Sex or convenient sex. When it was all done and over, it was the arguing and the bickering. Things were said and done so _no_ , Adrian didn’t understand how _that_ , the constant fighting, would have helped anyone.

Sure, they were different people. They were atypical in many ways. But yelling and screaming shouldn’t have to placate anyone’s anguish. It should only be logical that they amplified.

How the hell could have Adrian helped if all they ever did was fight. With words and maybe if it had to do, with their fists. There was always some newly pasted plaster inside of Adrian’s place because punches were always being thrown and they were always being purposely missed. They were never directed toward each other but at the situation.

That shouldn’t help _anyone_.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Adrian.”

But he fucking did. He always fucking did. That’s why he had stayed as long as he had with Deran. Because he always worried for the both of them and stopping, it was never his intention. Worrying was never an impediment in progressing what they had, it was always supposed to be concrete and present because worrying was contingent on the fact that they were friends. That they will always be friends. That despite everything, Adrian shouldn’t have forgotten that. That, that remembering that before anything, Deran was his best friend, was what had kept everything going.

Deran might have been a lot of things but Deran was always his friend, first.

He had lost sight of that.

_Why the fuck did he lose sight of that?_

Adrian chuckled but it was soon followed by an audible crack.

 _Why did he forget **that**_?

He maintained a steady tone as he asked, “What stopped you?” Deran, who had done a splendid job at looking impassive, jolted his lips in a manner that morphed into a frown and before Deran could even ask, Adrian paced around the area, raising his voice with every word as he huffed; “I mean, what stopped you from just barging into my place and saying ‘Adrian, I want to kill myself, help me’,” he felt the need to itch at his nose, “And I would have helped you Deran because _fuck_ , I don’t want you to feel like that. I don’t want you to _die_ , I don’t want you to do anything stupid because _you don’t_ deserve that.” The words came out in a hurried manner and before he knew it, his vision had blurred. He found himself jabbing his hands into his stomach as he felt like that any moment, he would just shatter under his own words.

Adrian had never intended for Deran to feel like that and not come to him.

“I’m sorry, I should have seen it,” Adrian quivered, “I should have seen that you were-that you,” he wiped his hand across his jaw, “that you weren’t OK. That you,” he flailed his arm out in front of him, “that you, you-“

The cold hand that brisked against his cheek, stopped him. Deran ran his fingers against his skin, moving them away from his jaw up until they rested against the crease of his lid. Adrian whimpered slightly at the touch but as soon as he could see through his blurry vision that Deran was withdrawing his hand, Adrian leaned into the touch, nestling his face until he felt himself stop trembling. Soon, the coldness evaporated and the warmth that emanated from Deran’s hand had seeped into Adrian’s own skin. It felt comforting. It felt-

There was no moment to absorb the warmth, as Adrian flinched when Deran brazenly pulled his hand away. Adrian blinked a couple of times to clear his vision, watching as Deran took large strides backwards until his back collided with garage door. He threw his palms out in front of him as he whispered, “I didn’t mean to do that.”

Which Adrian almost smiled at because those were his words. Those were always his words. Deran was the one who, when needed, initiated. These small touches. The closeness in proximity. He always made an attempt if he needed to but he never, moved away. He never apologized for it. It wasn’t equivalent to the times where Deran would surprise him as he slipped his hand around Adrian’s face and covered his shrills as they both found themselves raggedly making their way into a bedroom. No, these were little touches here and there.

A squeeze of the shoulder. He would whisper a joke, not because the joke couldn’t be for everyone else to hear, but because it gave him an excuse to be closer to Adrian. Deran had showed him that from the beginning and it never dissipated. It was always there.

Adrian gulped as the realization started to become proverbial knives that stabbed into every crevice of his body.

_It was always there._

_He had just lost sight of it_.

“I think I, get how you feel now.” Deran mumbled, and he sounded so hesitant, Adrian almost reached over to grab his fumbling hands. As soon as he felt the need to do so, he clenched his hands into fists and dropped them to their sides.

Adrian didn’t respond.

“Kind of like when a wave crashes?” Deran whispered, almost as if he was finding the words for the first time to explain how he felt, “Like you’re drowning?”

Drowning.

 _Fuck_.

Drowning.

Yeah.

That was how he felt.

Like he was drowning.

And Deran was drowning with him.

“That’s how I make you feel.” Deran guessed but frowned, his forehead creasing as he clarified, “ _Is_ that how _I_ make _you_ feel?” It almost felt rhetorical because Deran didn’t give Adrian a chance to respond. “Do you feel like you’re drowning because of me?”

If someone had asked him months ago, heck, even a mere day ago, he would have concurred. Absolutely. Hell yeah. Deran fucked up his life. Deran sucked the air everytime he walked into a room and made sure Adrian suffocated.

Sure, that would have been his response.

But now, as he stood there and watched as Deran looked back at him with those eyes- _those eyes,_ void of anything remotely uplifting, he wasn’t sure. His face was a combination of confusion, pain, anguish and anger. As if Deran was struggling with that notion. As if Deran felt suffocated by that idea.

“I don’t know, Deran.”

Deran let out a groan, “I don’t want to be the reason you feel like that,” and he had said it with such disdain, Adrian felt the need to clarify.

“I don’t want to end my life over it.”

He needed to hear that.

It never got to that point

That was never an option.

“So I never made you feel like _that_?”

Adrian had to bite his tongue as it dawned on him what Deran was insinuating-that whatever internal anguish Adrian had felt for the past several years, had it ever been to the point where Adrian had thought of just ending it, once and for all. And whether that decision was solely based off of one person: Deran.

But it was never a choice.

“Deran.”

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore, Adrian,” he hissed, “I don’t want you to feel _it_ anymore, I can’t do that to you.” Deran had mumbled between hoarse exhales. Like every word was a punch to his throat; as if the weight of it was too much for him to handle on his own.

“ _Deran_ ,” Adrian tried again, “You never made me feel that way. It was never a fucking option,” Adrian sternly responded.

“But I had something to do with,” Deran’s frown deepened, “What you’re feeling in here,” Deran jabbed at his chest, “Right? I fucked it up. I fucked you up. I did that to you. I did, didn’t I? _Didn’t I_?!” He hissed, “I did that to you!”

Adrian took large strides, until he was standing a mere several inches away from Deran, throwing his hands around him and pulling him in close, not even attempting to flinch as Deran used his hand to push Adrian away. Adrian wrapped his one hand around the nape of Deran’s neck and pulled him in close, using his other free hand to wrap it coarsely around Deran’s shoulder.

“Shut up. Shut up, Deran,” Adrian pleaded, “ _Shut up_.” Adrian began to rub Deran’s back, running his fingers in an almost circular motion to placate Deran’s quivering. He repeated the motion until Deran leaned into the touch. Adrian squeezed gently, whispering repeatedly, “It’s alright. It’s going to be alright” as Deran began to tremble into his touch. Adrian could still hear the words that left Deran’s mouth but they were muffled by Adrian's shirt, as Deran had chosen to shove his face into the helm of Adrian’s neck, just beside his jaw.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Deran spluttered. They were jarred by the cloth but Adrian could still discern what Deran was trying to say. Adrian moved his hand away from Deran’s neck and tucked them under Deran’s arm, until there was not even the slightest inch between them.

“ _I’m sorry_.”

The warmth he felt earlier emanating from Deran only blew up into insurmountable proportions. His warmth had radiated to the point where Adrian felt swamped by it but he made no attempt to move away. Adrian tugged onto Deran’s waist and pushed it further into their somewhat despondent hug.

“ _I’m sorry_.” Deran whimpered.

They were both drowning.

They were both suffocating.

They were always drowning and suffocating.

But Deran had always been the one who didn’t know how to stay afloat. Deran didn’t know how to take that longer exhale to make some room for the confined inhales.

 _He’s your best friend_.

_He’s your only friend._

_He needs you_.

Adrian shut his eyes closed as he leaned into the touch.

And Adrian needed him.

If they were going to get past this.

If they wanted to move forward.

If they remembered that they were always going to be this-

Friends.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time to move forward.
> 
> To new beginnings!
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time to move forward

There were about three things he realized he really didn't like. Not to the point where he felt like he hated it but he strongly disliked it. One of them, included being surprised, even when he expected to be. It was one thing to not be aware of what was to happen because unpredictability meant no accountability. But expecting it? 

 

It meant that he should have seen it coming from a mile away yet the mere fact that he couldn't, meant he had been distracted, or obtuse or just really  _really_  stupid. 

 

"ED!" 

 

Adrian drew out his board from behind the fridge, making a mental note to wonder how in the ever living hell  his surfboard end up there but shook his head as it became quite apparent that it was insignificant. 

 

There was the slamming of a door and a low hiss, an irritating 'shit' escaped their lips and before he even had his front facing the back door, Ed was hovering over, hands braced on his knees as he waved his index finger, heaving as he tried to catch his breath. 

 

"Jesus, Ed." Adrian used his free hand to pull open the freezer, tucking his thumb under the clasp and using his nail in a quick swipe to unclasp the tip, "Here. Drink some." 

 

Ed absentmindedly reached over, missing Adrian's grip on the beer at every chance. Adrian waited until until Ed had his hand midway in the air before he placed it against his wrist, Ed quickly wrapping his hand around the glass. 

 

"Thanks." He quaffed the drink at one sip, wiping the sleeve of his sweatshirt against his mouth, "sorry I'm late man." 

 

Adrian let out a chuckle, "I don't care about that, Ed." He tucked the board underneath his armpit and grabbed his keys off of the shed counter, shoving them into his pockets. "Try not to run, you're gonna have a stroke before you hit the ground." 

 

"Yeah. Yeah."

 

Adrian had to smile a little bit wider. Because this was Ed and Ed was always going to be this-simple. At first glance, he was a little on the heavy side and sure he lacked social skills but you never really needed them when all you had to do was work on construction and wax some boards. If anything, his personality matched his work. 

 

Although, he could work a little bit on the bulge, for his health issues. 

 

"I could teach you how to surf., Ed" 

 

Ed dropped the bottle in the can beside the motor, giving Adrian an incredulous snort before rolling his eyes as he leaned against the table. This was something Adrian had offered before and Ed, as usual, dismissed it with a wave.

 

"Dude, I can't even you know, function on land and you want me to put myself in water?" Ed 'tsked', "No way, man. Fishes and shit is going to eat me." 

 

"That doesn't make any sense." 

 

"Hey, man," Ed smiled, "Hakuna my-Tata." 

 

Adrian feigned disgust as he tugged on his sweatshirt with his free hand. 

 

"Fish or  _shit_  don't tend to grab people's dick, Ed." 

 

"Yeah but just because it never happened to you, doesn't mean it won't happen to me." 

 

Adrian had to miffle his snort, "maybe if you even bothered to get in the water, we could actually test that probability." 

 

Ed tapped his fingers against the hard wood, "No way, man. Can't take any risks." 

 

Adrian had to commend his resolve. No matter how ridiculous his excuses were, Adrian couldn't find it within himself to argue. Not because there weren't a hundred logical facts that he could retort with but because Ed was Ed and if Ed wanted to take that initiative, that was up to him and no one else. Adrian knew a thing or two about being told what to do rather than being asked whether he wanted to do it. 

 

Adrian sighed. He drew his hand through the seep of the hole at the end of sweatshirt and drew his hand up to his face, rubbing his eye with his closed fist. 

 

"I'll be back in a couple of hours," Adrian slid open the small shack beside the door, wavering his eyes until they landed on the wet suit that was tucked behind a couple of turpentine boxes, "if you need anything, just give me a call alright." 

 

He noticed another pair beside the one he grabbed. It was a lighter shade than the ones he usually wore and Adrian almost stifled a sigh at the convenience of finding it. 

 

It was Deran's. 

 

He grabbed it and threw it between his legs, shifting his arm a little bit as he closed the door. He nudged the wetsuit under his pit closer to his side and then lowered slightly as he grabbed the one between his legs and tucked it beside the black one. 

 

"I'll see you later, A." 

 

Adrian gave a nimble nod as he pulled open the door, trudging his way to his truck and dumping the clothes in the backseat. He peered through the glass, pulled the lever and set aside the board against a cooler; which was empty. 

 

The drive to the pier was unnecessary but Adrian sorted out the most likely possibilities that would play out. It was one of two. One, Deran and him would just try to dance around each other and maybe, at most, reminiscence without actually verbally acknowledging it. 

 

Two, shit would backfire and Adrian was sure that walking would not only dampen his mood but would result in cramps and other impediments he didn't want to look forward to because a stubborn hot-heated Deran had somehow invoked certain emotions that led him to walk the entire distance back to his place. 

 

His truck was much more than an accessory, sometimes he felt like it was an appendage of himself, as it provided him with comfort in places he didn't think he'd get them. The graft was familiar and the scent was always the same. It was stagnant in a world where everything wasn't. It was a stable territory that he could go to when needed. It wasn't going to be any different. So when and if Adrian needed to just think, collect those thoughts that usually run a 1001 miles in his head, his truck was a motor that processed his mind. 

 

Adrian settled beside the little boulder on the offside of the shore, watching the waves crash and dissipate into the sand. The crashes were gentle, and so quiet, the only sounds that ricocheted off of Adrian's ears were that of the winds hurling in the sky. They weren't harsh but they were indicative of an imminent storm, give or take at least five or so hours. 

 

Adrian shifted around, wiping his hands against his thighs. It wasn't as if they were going to be out for a long time. The moment either of them felt the tide was going to pick up and carry over, Adrian knew it was the time to get going. 

 

At the same token, there was also something very cathartic about knowing that his mind and soul were cognizant of the dangers that preceded this action yet his body felt liberated at the idea of being one with nature. The turgid winds would make the water just as rapid and harsh , but it felt almost existential to be apart of that phenomenon.

 

He smothered his fingers through the sand, watching as the grains fell through the crevices but some were stuck on his flesh. They were grainy but the wetness of his hands softened its texture and made it that much more adhesive. 

 

_Jesus Christ._

 

Whatever life had entailed for him, he was sure that the beach wasn't going to be far away from him. He craved the water more than it craved him. Sometimes it felt extremely strange to be dry, but he was also aware of the fact that being drenched on a twenty four hour basis would do nothing for his health nor for his desire to just exist without being noticed. 

 

The soft jabs against the wet sand grabbed Adrian's attention. He twisted his body, wiping his elbow against his eyes as he focused on the sight before him. 

 

Deran had his wet suit half worn, his upper torso exposed as he had his board beside his thigh, gripping onto a smaller duffel bag in his other hand. His hair was unkempt but no more than usual. There were strands that stuck to his neck, as the small drizzle that overcasted , trickled over the open flesh. 

 

There were two other legs that followed Deran's trail, much slender and much more haphazard. Adrian turned his attention to Deran, who had a tight look etched over his face. He briefly glanced at J behind him but then at the moment he gritted his teeth, Adrian wondered how J decided to tag along. 

 

Not that he was the one to contest. 

 

"Hey, man." Adrian found his voice. Deran had stopped a good foot away from him. He tucked his head slightly down but he gave a small meager nod. Like he was acknowledging his presence. And that was it. 

 

Adrian huffed under his breath. 

 

Adrian wondered whether they should even be walking on glass around each other. Because if anything, they had been walking on hot coal for years. It would do them no good being complacent with the fact that coals have now been reduced to shards of glass. There had to be just empty space between them. 

 

So Adrian stood up. 

 

He stretched his hand out, palm flexed, putting it in Deran's periphery. Deran didn't have to be the one to take the first step. Adrian could make the initiative. Nothing would be conducive if they both decided to just half-ass try. Someone had to just take the first step. 

 

Deran peered at his palm and then lifted his head up to look at Adrian. 

 

Adrian made no attempt to withdraw his hand. 

 

"You shake it." Adrian offered, aiming to keep the sarcasm out of his voice but to no avail. 

 

Deran just stared. 

 

He stared up until  till Adrian noticed the ghostly smile flickering on his lips. So Adrian returned the notion and etched his lips upward. 

 

Deran met Adrian's touch, clasping their palms together until they both formed their typical handshake, curling their fingers momentarily as they pulled back. 

 

They hadn't done that in a  _long_  time. 

 

"We need to work on that." 

 

Deran snorted. 

 

"We haven't done that in years, man." Deran responded with. Adrian didn't contest. Where was the lie in that? Maybe it had been over fifteen years.  Maybe longer. It was one of the first things they had ever done. Kind of preliminary at thirteen years old, right? To have a handshake with your best friend? To know things about the other person for the sole reason that they were your best friend? 

 

"I know." Adrian slipped his hand against his side. 

 

Deran nodded.

 

"What's up, J?" Adrian turned his attention to the kid, who wore a meek smile as he stepped closer. 

 

"Hey, Adrian." 

 

The kid wore his pants and a gray t-shirt. Pink Floyd was etched at the bottom of a prism, that had a spectrum of colors that were reflected through. 

 

"Gonna join us?" 

 

J turned to look at Deran but then his gaze dropped as he wore a stoic look. Adrian wavered his eyes at Deran, who had just begun to zip the upper half of his wet suit. 

 

As soon as Deran adjusted the elasticity, he shoved the bag he held in his hand, against J's limp hand, "It should fit you," Deran didn't wait for J to grab the tossel, as he shoved his hand and pulled out a grey wetsuit, taint blue seeping in some areas. 

 

Adrian recognized it. 

 

It was Deran's. But he hadn't seen him wear it in a while. Maybe back in high school. Maybe earlier. It could fit J, because Deran was much more lean a couple of years back. He didn't have much definition but Adrian wondered if they translated to J's physique. 

 

"I uh," Adrian unzipped the zipper near his ankle, pulling out his truck's key, "have a another board in the back. Could be a little dented but no dings, so." Adrian dropped the key into J's open palm, sizing up the wetsuit he held against his chest. 

 

Could work. 

 

And if J were to fall, he could always get back up and swim back. 

 

J gave a couple of nods before retreating in the direction he came from. He had his gaze on us for half the distance before he jogged the rest back. It would take a couple of minutes. They were at a good distance from the lot. 

 

Deran had an unassuming look that washed over his face. 

 

"How's he holding up?" 

 

Deran followed Adrian's gaze, flipping the board from beside his thigh and vertically tilted it, gently dipping the tip into the sand. 

 

"He looked bored." Deran answered, "didn't want to leave him with Smurf." His voice was lower. But the nuance was understood. Adrian could feel the atmosphere just start to dampen the moment her name came up. It almost felt like she had a tangible effect on all of them. 

 

Deran grabbed the noose on the board and brought it up around his ankle, using his thumb and index finger to tighten the brace. He pulled on the clasp until he was satisfied.

 

"Is she-?" Adrian's voice wavered off because it was usually implicitly what he wanted to get at. 

 

Deran took a step forward, looking away as he mumbled, "No more than usual." 

 

Okay. 

 

Usual. 

 

"Pope?" 

 

Deran inhaled in slowly. 

 

"What about him?" He began-

 

Deran exhaled out just as slowly. 

 

"Pope's being Pope." He concluded.

 

He wanted Deran to elaborate but swallowed his words. 

 

Baby steps.

 

Baby fucking steps. 

 

Deran tossed his hair down and then flipped his head, catching his hair mid-air and swooping it in one fastidious motion, using his hand to tie it in a loop at the near top of his head.

 

"You're cool with It?" Deran mumbled, still avoiding eye contact. It bothered Adrian but he wasn't going to hone in on the fact that he was basically talking to the side of Deran's head. That was just completely ridiculous. And it shouldn't be bothering him, anyway. 

 

At least they were talking. That's what mattered.

 

Adrian watched as Deran shifted closer to him and  ended up focusing on the waves as they crashed against the surface of its own tide. 

 

"With?" Adrian inquired. 

 

Deran leaned against the frame of the surf board, running his hand across until he settled it against the opposite side. 

 

"J tagging along?" Deran sounded hesitant, like he needed to explain himself but Adrian didn't even get the opportunity to placate his worries, as Deran tore his eyes away and tilted his neck to stare at Adrian, the color resumed in his face since the last time he had seen him. There were still lags under his eye but they weren't as protruding. They almost blended in seemlessly had Adrian not noticed them prior. Deran itched at his nose as he mumbled, "I thought he needed some air. You know?" 

 

"Okay." 

 

Deran nodded. 

 

"Okay." Adrian repeated, because he wanted to make sure Deran not only heard him, but absorbed his reply. Because it was okay, because it was going to be okay, because they were going to be okay. 

 

It was almost strange for Adrian to hear how unsure Deran sounded. Maybe Adrian decided not to walk on shards of glass around him but he wasn't so sure Deran was doing the same. 

 

"Deran," Adrian leaned over to pick up the board, wiping his hand against his thigh, quickly trying to recall how to approach this matter without really calling this a matter, an issue. He really wanted to tell him to stop the fidgeting and keeping the distance but he bit back his words begrudgingly as he pointed at the area near the buoy. 

 

It was not as far as he would have preferred but with this weather, it was safer than sorry. They would probably ride smaller waves but at the very least, the offchance of them indexing would be minimal. 

 

Adrian turned and waited. He assumed they would be waiting and when he faced Deran, he had guessed correctly. They both took a couple of steps around the vicinity of where they were standing but made no attempt to go in. It felt a little strange without it really feeling strange. It only felt slightly jarring when Adrian focused on the fact that it was unusual.

 

So as soon as he found himself trying to ponder about the lack of words exchanged, he had felt like silence seemed almost apt, if not necessary. 

 

People tended to always feel the need to fill the quietness with words because they believed there was something atypical about not conversing when there were enough people to converse with. It felt uncomfortable.

 

But it almost felt-

 

It felt relieving. 

 

That Deran and him could be in a situation where no words needed to be said and yet they could still be in each other's company. That, sure, as of recently and as of that moment, they might have been both walking on eggshells but it wasn't to the point where one felt the need to fill the silence- or run away. They felt okay with the void enough that they could still be around each other. That there wasn't any reason to fill that void. The quietness didn't make them uncomfortable. 

 

It was just relieving because friends don't need words to fill the spaces; they just understood the silence. 

 

Friend. 

 

He had said that word, jogged it in his mind, heard it to the point where it felt like he needed to keep saying it. Keep reminding himself that when there were  moments of doubt and just complete anger, he needed to remember that neither of them were going to get remotely better if they didn't remember that. 

 

He had to temporarily forget everything else because in this moment, he knew that fretting and anguishing over what had happened will never be conducive to what should happen from here on out. 

 

 

They were too inextricably tied to each other that Adrian's approach at getting past this had been too naive. Too obtuse. They were self-reliant. They will always be self-reliant. They needed to get back to that place where they can rely on each other , no questions asked. 

 

This relationship had formed into one that was aptly described to be as mutualism. If one hurt, the other one was not far away from that anguish. If one was content, the other one would find a way to be genuinely content. The processed it differently but they both felt the same thing. 

 

Adrian stifled a scoff. 

 

Maybe Deran and him had a hard time delineating what they had because it was nothing more than mutualistic symbiosis. 

 

Well if the shoe fits?

 

Adrian didn't hate the idea entirely. It was one step above from not defining it as anything. Friend was too ambiguous. Mutualism was a little more specific. At least that word entailed certain stipulations that Adrian could adhere to.

 

That's how they would move forward. 

 

"Sorry." 

 

Adrian whisked his head, assessing the newly placed wet suit that J wore, noticed the seam slightly longer at his ankles but it was nothing short of a complete miss. 

 

J looked like a dissolving mess. It was akin to watching someone right before they collided into a concrete wall. The outcome seems perceptible but having front row to watching that collision actually occur was kind of disheartening. 

 

Adrian didn't have to assume what was the cause of this change in demeanor. He shook his head as the word played on his lips, swallowed it down as to not sour his mood. 

 

"Lets surf the small break waves, okay?" Adrian postulated, "I don't know, seems like it's gonna pour soon." 

 

It was quick but J and Deran both caught each other's eyes and in a rapid second, they both looked off into the distance.  

 

Okay? 

 

 

J held his board, fingers gripped around the rail, making the initiative to take a couple of steps forward with Adrian and Deran soon following. 

 

Deran jogged into the water, laying his board out at arms length before straddling himself on top, eventually placing his chest against the surface and using his hands to gravel the water to start paddling out. 

 

J soon followed. 

 

Adrian didn't miss the way they briefly looked at each other. It wasn't like there were words unspoken but it felt like there were moments unknown. It didn't feel like he was out of the loop but it also felt like he wasn't completely in it.

 

They paddled out a relatively medial distance before they sat on top of their boards, redirecting it to face the shore.

 

Adrian briefly caught J and Deran making the same motion. They would catch each other's eyes but it was so fast, Adrian had to wonder if it even occurred. 

 

"What?" 

 

Deran drew his hands from the water and splashed his face, spitting out the contents that seeped into this mouth. J shoved his hands into the water and whisked his fingers through. 

 

" _What_?" Adrian bellowed. Because this was getting -inconspicuously jarring. 

 

"Uh." 

 

Deran shrugged, "we kind of made a bet." 

 

"A bet?" Adrian repeated. 

 

"Yeah," J spoke up, "gonna see who can ride the battering wave," there was a small smile playing on his lips but it didn't morph into one, "if I win, Deran's gonna take me down to Omega to buy me a procross-" 

 

"I didn't say that." Deran interjected. 

 

"If he wins, well," J continued as if Deran hadn't said anything, "he didn't bargain yet. So like," the grin was apparent and wide, "you in?" 

 

"Am I in?" 

 

Deran glanced up at Adrian, "are you going to repeat everything we say?" But there was no crude tone in his voice. It felt so-jovial. It felt mocking but not insulting. 

 

Adrian braced his hands against the rails.

 

"I'm good." Adrian answered, noticing a wave breaking at a good 200 feet away, "you guys should, get going." 

 

J knelt over and used his hands to level the water against his palms as he moved further outwards. Deran watched for a bit before he turned to look at Adrian, the droplets still apparent against his face.

 

"I'll watch out for the kid." Deran nodded. 

 

And that bothered Adrian? Adrian had to process that. Because it wasn't like Deran was uncaring person. He just had a different way of showing it. He'd say that he was indifferent but the moment he got the chance, he'd show that he felt anything but. 

 

It was little things. 

 

Adrian knew he shouldn't be surprised but he felt like he had forgotten that this was the Deran who he knew. 

 

Deran hated delineating it as a kind thing to do but his acts were the definition of selfless. What's more selfless than giving up their identity for the mere need to acclimate to their surroundings? 

 

Adrian should have seen it from a mile away but he hadn't. And it bothered him. 

 

"I'll look out for you both." Adrian remarked. 

 

Deran's mouth was slightly ajar, but he cleared his throat as he redirected, offering a slight nod as he made his way closer to J. 

 

Adrian had to cease the ache in his chest that began to metastasize. 

\--

 

Death. Seemed like a foreign concept. Inviting death seemed rather macabre. Adrian liked his life. Sure, he detested a good portion of it, within reason, but that was never enough of a reason to want to end that detestment. 

 

The thing about emotions that he always understood was that, they were meant to be felt. They were as visceral as they were tangible. Sure, there were moments where he wished his mood wasn't as sour or he didn't sulk until he realized he had wasted time sulking, but that was the process of just being human. 

 

Being human entailed feeling emotions, regardless of how extreme they might be. Panic attacks, he understood. Sometimes his anxiety got to the point where he would find himself breathing ragged breaths and shoving his face down into the pillow until he muffled his screams. 

 

A couple of years ago, he knew how to control it. He knew that if he did what he set his mind to, he would be able to alleviate that tension in his chest. He would stop feeling the knives in his throat and take another breath without forcing it. He learned to avoid it entirely because anxiety is just bottled energy that human bodies can't contain. If a body is a vessel, certain times, a vessel will implode as it can't contain that certain energy. 

 

Recently, anxiety had coexisted to the point where it felt like it was apart of his identity. His identity was something comical because the only hint he was concrete about was how significant his anxiety had become who he was as a person. It was the reason and will always be the reason he finds himself staring at a wall, ricocheting ideas from within the confinements of his head, against the plasters of the four walls cornering him. 

 

It was the reason he would find any reason to not smile. At a certain point, he felt like it was ingenuine and the easier it was for him to accept that happiness was ephemeral, the better time he had of accepting his anxiety as being apart of him. 

 

It was the reason he'd found surfing cathartic. Being within the water, paddling and then popping up, crashing into the waves and finding the surface;  his anxiety had morphed into another concept. What he internalized was confined by his flesh but what he soon found out was that surfing was so similar to a panic attack, he was attracted to it. 

 

All because this panic and hysteria had become apart of who he was. 

 

Surfing was meant to be apart of who he was.

 

They were inextricably tied together. 

 

Sometimes Adrian felt like that basically surmised why he was so prone to being around Deran. Maybe it was the fact that anxiety and surfing weren't the only two that were intercorrelated, but so was Deran. He was just as much apart of his identity than the other two were: Ten years had to mean something. 

 

Knowing what he knew, it still baffled Adrian as to what in the ever living fuck was Deran thinking about death TO the point where it was a permanent solution. 

 

Adrian gravitated towards Deran because just like his anxiety, and surfing, he had found a common ground, a theme that was uniting. His anxiety was him. Surfing was him. Deran was him. If that were the case, how could Deran approach that idea and Adrian avoided it as if it was never even an alternative? 

 

“Same shit?”

 

Adrian glared down at the tray he carried in his hand, before looking back up at Deran.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Deran shrugged, “me too.” He held the burrito in his hand, the familiar tortilla was way too familiar. They had arrived at Nico’s to eat and somehow, they both had ended up getting their usuals. J had disappeared to order his food. Deran and Adrian had found a canopy outside of the canteen and decided to take a seat, the pouring had cleared to the point where the sun felt slightly too scathing.

 

Both of their attentions diverted to their food. Adrian’s stomach churned to the point where he had to clutch his stomach, silently pleading that it would stop groaning every moment he had come across something eatable. The sight of the tacos only invigorated the pain in his lower waist.

 

Adrian glanced up as he noticed a beer bottle shoved in his direction. It was a standard local beer around O-side. The taste was more bitter than he preferred, but he was sure that the bile that had built up in the back of his throat would appreciate this change of texture as well as taste.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Deran nodded.

 

Routine. They were used to that. Adrian supposed Deran was more so than usual. It would be naïve to say that it was completely generic since he has to live amongst _them_ but, in many ways, what wasn’t? They were just two overlying themes that were always constant in Deran’s life that everything else never succeeded to precede it. One, Smurf’s way or quite possibly, some hole in the crevice so forgotten that it must be never remembered. Two, be with the family. Don’t just exist, be an active participant in it. Whatever that entailed might vary but it was definitive and concrete.

 

In many ways, Deran’s life was generic.

 

But Adrian wondered whether it was that _routine_ for Deran to want to do what he intended.

 

"Did you actually want to jump?" The word burned his tongue. It felt too raw and too wrong to have to be able to say it. 

 

Deran had his burrito, a good portion of it in his mouth, chewing what was already in the confines of his mouth before placing it down. 

 

"Not here." 

 

Adrian frowned. 

 

"Not here," Deran repeated, his gaze focusing on his surroundings, " _please_." 

 

Right. Too many people. Too open. 

 

"Sorry." 

 

Deran pushed back his plate. "I don't want you to say that." 

 

"Sorry?" 

 

" _Shit_ ," Deran remarked, leaning away to adjust further in his chair, "between you and me," he grabbed the heel of his chair and pushed himself a little back, "we have enough of  _that_ to go around for days."  

 

Which sounded just about right. 

 

"Yeah," Adrian conceded, "we do." 

 

Deran resumed to eating his burrito, but he did it with such reluctance, Adrian would have assumed that it was bile that Deran was consuming. At the thought of that, Adrian’s stomach began to dissolve but the immediate churning that followed soon, disregarded the slight jarring he felt in his head.

 

 The incessant buzzing through his pocket ceased for a brief second before it went back, on full mode. Adrian shoved his hand and grabbed his vibrating phone, haphazardly putting in his pass code before running his eyes over the texts. 

 A myriad of texts from Ed.

 

 

Adrian drew his phone and set against his ear, letting the familiar tune disspate, smearing some A1 on the back of his spoon before bringing it up to his lips and taking a large swoop. The sun began to prickle his neck and some parts of his arms started to sting as well but there was enough shade from the canopy that Adrian decided to forgo the ache.

 

The tone went to voicemail.

Adrian tore his cell away from his ear before shoving it back into his pocket. He grabbed the bottle with the Tapatio and dabbed it on his tacos, just enough that it would instigate certain dormant senses but not to the point where he would feel like he was incinerating from within. He grabbed the taco from the sides and shoved a good portion in his mouth, whisking his teeth down before usurping the contents.

It tasted decent.

“Ed?”

Adrian stuck his thumb into this mouth, scrupulously getting rid of any trace of the hot sauce that smeared onto his finger.

“Yeah.” He answered, resuming back to take another bite, this time, the taste started to invoke certain taste buds that got him to appreciate it a bit more.

Deran hovered his hands over his burrito but made no attempt to pick it up. He almost looked like he was contemplating on whether to even finish it but then took a sip before that internal battle translated to anything else. There seemed to be some creases etched into his forehead that had not dissipated since the last time Adrian had seen. It almost seemed permanent. As if age was catching up to Deran at twenty-three. As if it was a reflection of his internal combats.

Deran wore the same stubble that he had since the last time Adrian could recall. His eyes were resuming back to its normal color but it wasn’t the same. It was as if a candle was lit and then was dimmed to the point where the wax itself had started to degrade. He held his lips in a tight line that did a decent job at not conveying emotions, which was nothing unusual. At the same time, Deran made no attempt to not disclose how he felt. He would scrunch his nose the moment he held the beer cup in his hands, muttering a couple of words before taking a swing, the disdain apparent all over his eyes.

His eyes were a portal to everything remotely isolated from the rest of the world.

But when his eyes looked that dimmed-

Adrian gritted his teeth together, feeling the knuckles on his hands starting to ache as he kneaded his fingers into the fabric of his shorts underneath the table. It almost felt like he was feeling almost, if not everything, Deran felt but at the same time, he wasn’t feeling anything remotely equivalent.

J pulled the empty stool from beside the bar, taking a seat as he lowered his platter of onion rings, a couple of dollars peeking through the patch in the seams of his plaid shirt. He also had a Snapple and Adrian almost snorted at another bottle of Tapatio.

Adrian guessed it was one thing they all shared in common.

“Procross motor bike?” Adrian bemused, “Good job, J.”

J gave a meek smile before dabbing some off the hot sauce on the onion rings, picking one up but directing it in Adrian’s direction, “Want one?”

“I’m good, man.”

J turned his head to look at Deran, who at this point, was staring at his phone’s screen, intent to the point where he hadn’t even noticed that J had offered. J drew his hand back and threw the onion ring into his mouth. J had resumed to wearing back the clothes Adrian had first seen him in. The clothes stuck to his skin, the wetness soaking through. There were some gnashes against his neck, which were the result of the hard hit he took as Deran made no attempt at making it easy.

There was a point where J pushed back, which to Deran’s amusement, was not amusing. Adrian was sure that if it hadn’t been for the pouring or the fact that the waves broke at a rate that basically indicated that it was time to go, Deran wouldn’t have a problem retaliating. Deran wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t have even retorted a demeaning remark if someone had advised it was best to leave because Deran knew that it was the logical thing to do.

Sometimes, he was capable of doing things properly. Logically.

Deran drew his eyes away from the screen before abruptly standing up, hooking one of his fingers through the hood of his sweatshirt, gripping his cell in his one hand and quaffing the drinks in his cup.

“Let’s go,” he motioned at J, “Smurf’s calling.” The way in which Deran had urgency in his voice, Adrian bit his lip until he tasted the metallic blood taste. Asking questions would only invoke hashed out words that he felt wasn’t conducive.

Adrian could ask what was going on but decided against it.

At that moment, as Deran swung his hand to grab the platter that J had started to consume, it was clear that he wasn’t going to be waiting on J to absorb the words. J had an impassive look on his face as he kicked the stool back, rubbing his hands against his sides as he started to tread backwards.

J caught Adrian’s attention, mumbling a quick ‘see you’ before turning around completely.

Adrian switched his attention to focus on Deran.

Deran drew out his wallet, stacked some bills into his fist and threw it against the napkin holster. He picked up the A1 bottle for good measure and placed it on top of the money, giving the plate an extra nudge before he too began to retreat in the same direction as J.

It almost felt like Adrian was not only impervious but invisible to Deran. His notions were validated when Deran dashed out from underneath the canopy and disappeared behind the corner.

Adrian leaned back into his chair and raked his hands through his air, blowing out a breath of air.

Before he even had a moment to digest, he flinched slightly as a pair of feet appeared in his periphery, the glinted sandals indicative of one person and one person only. Adrian lifted his head up as he came face to face with Deran, who was closer than he had been in the past two days, a slight heave in his voice as he whispered, “Sorry. Smurf wants us,” his voice wavered off before it didn’t, “back.”

Well he was surprised.

“Yeah,” he couldn’t hide the sarcasm in his voice, as his emotions preceded his caution, “I can tell.”

“Sorry.” Deran replied.

Adrian leaned slightly forward.

“I’m sorry.” Deran repeated.

Adrian itched at his neck, the scathing warmth that perforated had started to form into an itch that he could not resist.

 “It’s fine.”

This was insignificant. He shouldn’t have to be mad over this. “It’s fine, Deran.” He had to say it again, not for just him but for himself. It was fine. There was nothing to get worked up over.

Deran hesitated to move at the manner he had just done prior.  He wavered for a couple of seconds, which seemed longer than both of them intended. Deran’s voice would start to waver before he even let the words out. At one point, Adrian just swung his beer bottle and took a large swipe, letting the bitterness disintegrate the lump in his throat.

“Thought you had to go?” Adrian began, almost worrying at the lack of attempts Deran had not made to move.

Deran blinked, as if that was lost on him, but he shrouded his brows until his intent seemed to be clearer.

“Right.”

Right.

“They arrested someone,” Deran’s voice was smaller as the next couple of words left his lips, “About Cat.”

Oh.

“Sorry.” Adrian repeated the same words that Deran had just recently spewed.

Deran pulled at the seams of his sweatshirt, which he had now worn. He raked his hand through his hair before tugging at the few strands that fell in front of his face.

“Adrian-“

“Come over later, tell me how it goes.” Adrian interjected, wanting to avoid the imminent lack of articulate conversation. They were both going to sputter until one of them formulated a coherent sentence.

Deran nibbled at his lower lip.

It was almost reminiscence of a younger Deran, but it was so distant, it felt foreign seeing Deran display such an action.

“Okay.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

The knock on the door caused Adrian to peer from beyond the frame of his bathroom. He briefly glanced at the front before resuming to glide his razor against his cheek. Verbatim. He tapped the excess cream off of the edge of the sink before resuming the repeat.

Adrian heard the knock again, but this time it was more distinct.

 _No one knocks_.

He ladled the razor on top of the mirror cupboard before turning on the faucet to wash at the remnants of cream that were scattered on his lower jaw. Adrian grabbed the towel hovering over his shoulder and made his way out of the bathroom, switch the light with his foot before leaning with his free hand, to turn off the faucet.

Another knock.

“Jesus, fu-“

Adrian pulled the hook off of it’s nook, unclasping the lock. He was half-way into finishing his sentence when the words died on his lips the moment he noticed the familiar face in front of him.

Deran.

He was staring at the soles of his slippers, his hand mid-way to knock but his hand collapsed to his side.

“Deran?”

Deran didn’t respond. His shoulders slagged and even at that moment, he wasn’t making any eye contact.

“Deran.” This time, his voice was a bare whisper, and Adrian had to swallow the clog in his throat before he could complete the word. The cold shiver that ran down his back did nothing but alleviate his attention as he gazed at Deran. He reached over to cover Deran’s hand, who had immediately halted his verbatim behavior. Deran’s knuckles were rough at first but as Adrian firmly grasped onto them both, the texture subsided to that which felt like nails that had adhesed to grainy sand. It didn’t feel right.

Deran lowered his head, his breathing had picked up, where the harshness of his exhales matched surreptiously with the breeze that hit them both.

Adrian curled his fingers around Derans’ once they started to fidget, leaning in closer as he wrapped his free hand around Deran’s shoulder, taking the opportunity to direct him from the front door to inside. It wasn’t as if Deran was resisting but it almost felt as if everything else was. There was the fact that with ever step forward, Adrian couldn’t miss the way Deran growled but it was strained; strained to the point where Adrian wondered whether he had accidentally walked on needles and shards of glass. The hallway they stepped into was barely lit and Adrian couldn’t find it within himself to reach over and flip the switch.

He was primarily worried

It almost felt like light would incinerate Deran’s composure. He didn’t want to facilitate that process anymore than it was inevitable.

Adrian lowered onto the couch, Deran following. His gaze was amiss; it was as if he was staring at nothing in particular but that didn’t seem to matter. Loss of focus could sometimes be just as relieving as having any. Especially if it meant that he didn’t have to be inundated by his own thoughts.

“I’m,” Adrian began to pull his hands away, “I’m going to get some,” he found his footing as the heel of his leg found the table leg, wincing quietly as he whisked his head in the direction of the kitchen, “water.” He finished, taking large strides from what usually seemed, tiny space, and grabbing the handle on the fridge.

At first tug, it didn’t budge. His fingers frantically pulled and pulled until Adrian found himself leaning his head against the cool surface, shutting his eyes closed as the thunderous sound of his heart reverberated throughout his ears.

This seemed unavoidable. Cat’s death. It was as implicit the day he found out that they dug her body. The quietness around it. The way Baz would search and he wouldn’t find answers. The fact that none of them could. It’s been weeks since she’s been gone. It’s probably been just as long that she’s been dead.

Dead.

Death.

Cat’s dead.

The thought almost hurt as much as it made him cynical. It never seemed like someone who was worthy of that ending would meet it sooner than someone who wasn’t. Cat was good. She was kind, she was resilient, she was- _nothing_ like **them**.

She should have made it.

She had to have made it.

Because if she didn’t, it dismembered the infallibility of this notion that kindness will take you far but what if the tragedy was that it would also result in one’s demise?

Cat was good. Cat was kind. Cat was dead.

“ _Shit_.” His ragged breath suffocated the crevice between his mouth and the surface of the fridge. The hot air numbed the prickling he felt in his face, but only that was temporary as the coolness resided once again.

Adrian lifted himself off, once again tugging at the handle, this time trying to ignore the throbbing in his chest as he pulled the handle, with a little more effort than before, reaching over for a bottle before walking back into the room.

Deran was as he was. The room was just the way it was.

But Adrian was anything but.

Almost as if everything was stagnant except for him.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Adrian gripped the bottle a little bit tighter as he asked, “What do you mean?” as if he dreaded the answer not because it would be responded with something inevitably macabre but because he didn’t want it to hear it from Deran, because he didn’t need this to affect him as badly as it probably had.

When Deran took a shallow exhale, Adrian found his footing as he placed the bottle against his fisted hands, waiting until Deran unclasped and had a grip on the bottle. Adrian made a move to sit on the recliner but halted as Deran shifted himself to the corner of the couch, lifting his head up and made contact with Adrian.

There wasn’t ample enough light to illuminate his glare but the grey despondency he saw earlier had completely vanished and his iris was iridescent but not completely familiar.

Adrian left some room as he sat down.

“I don’t know what to do.” Deran repeated, as if it held another meaning since the last he had said it. It hadn’t to Adrian but when Deran unclasped the top and took a sip, it was clear that it had meant entirely something else to Deran.

“You don’t have to do anything.” Adrian was surprised at his response as he had consciously accepted that he wouldn’t be saying anything. He tilted his head and watched as Deran had done the same, holding brief eye contact before Deran tore his eyes away to take a larger sip.

Then silence.

But this time, it felt like anything but.

There were words but they were ricocheting from off of the walls and slamming into Adrian. He had to brace for the next impact because it wasn’t just words. Or thoughts. It was emotions. It was contagious how Deran felt because at that very moment, Adrian felt the same. He felt the pain. He felt the anger. He felt the hollowness. And he was sure that nothing was going to fill it. Nothing could remotely eradicate the cluster of emotions without it being temporary.

“Can I,” Deran took another sip, holding the bottle to his lips even after he had gulped, his hand mid-air as he glared at the couch. He didn’t have to finish his sentence. Adrian reached over for the blanket that was tugged into the crevice, placing it beside Deran’s foot as if ‘there, stay.’ But Adrian wished he could have verbally said the words, wanting to comfort him in verification but also worried that he would falter the moment he made the effort.

He didn’t have it in him to even placate when he couldn’t resonate. Empathy probably couldn’t do shit in this situation and he wasn’t going to lie to himself by saying that it would. Deran would probably call him out on his bullshit the moment he tried.

Adrian placed his palms firmly against the cushion before pushing himself up. Deran needed space. Surely anyone would feel suffocated. Adrian took a couple of steps back but he couldn’t avert his eyes off of Deran as he retreated backwards. Deran had started to look more and more unfamiliar as time passed. It wasn’t just his behavior, it was just everything. He looked defeated, not the kind where it would be rectified by a reprieve but as if it damaged a part of him that he could never glean back.

There were nuances; the way the creases under his eyes would deepen, sometimes soften but they would harden as if they had become an integral and infinite part of him. There were stubbles but they were sharper and it almost appeared as if he felt every visceral protrusion. Deran had his hair hanging just above his shoulders but the usual lightness was becoming less apparent. Adrian had to tell himself that this was just twenty-three and not a day older because if he didn’t, he would have forgotten by the way Deran appeared.

“Stay.”

Adrian felt his ears pounding.

“Ok.”

“If you’re tir-“

 _Deran needs you_.

“Deran.”

Deran nodded. “Okay.” He rubbed his eye with his closed fist, “Okay.”

Adrian leaned back, lifting his legs off of the floor and laid them on over each other on the table, digging his fingers into the cushion before gripping the remote in his hand. Adrian tilted his head, “What do you want to watch?”

Deran shrugged.

“If you don’t want to-“

“No, it’s fine.” Deran interrupted.

“D-“

“ _Adrian_.”

There was sterness to his tone that he wasn’t completely surprised by but it did silence him. He turned to switch on the TV, adjusting into the cushion and shifting closer to the other side before flipping through the channels. _Discovery. Spike. USA. History. WeTV. Syfy._

Adrian decided it didn’t matter what played on TV, as his concentration would be more focused on the person he was sitting beside than whatever the hell was happening on screen. Deran had uncurled his fist and shifted lower, lifting his hand over the armrest, tugging his hoodie barely over his ears. His focus had been averted but Adrian wasn’t sure if it was a façade or if the content on TV was drowning out his thoughts.

For a moment the tension seemed to stretch, but Adrian watched as Deran lifted the blanket over his head, coiling it into a pillow before tucking it underneath his ear as he laid to one side. Adrian resumed back to staring at the screen illuminating almost every crevice of the room, but never truly gave it his full attention. Occasionally, some characters would pique his mind but almost everything seamlessly glossed over his head.

His back began to ache so he decided to hover his hand over the arm and planted his cheek against his ceps, pulling his knees closer to his chest as he grabbed a pillow from underneath his hand and shoved it under his back for some leveling.

“I think Baz is gonna have a funeral.”

Adrian absorbed the words.

Think.

“Think?” Adrian repeated.

“Yeah.”

Okay.

Adrian almost felt the need to ask to clarify because it had to have been implicit that she would have had a funeral but the mere fact that there was a possibility that it would have not occurred seemed rather, absurd.

“It’ll just be the five of us.”

Smurf. Pope. Baz. Deran. Craig. J. Lena. That was six.

“Five?”

Even from his direction, Adrian noticed how Deran arched his back as he let out a sigh.

“Sorry.” Adrian felt the need to say, “Repeating stuff. Won’t do.” He elaborated, internally kicking himself.

“Baz. Me. Lena. Craig. You.”

Adrian averted his eyes away from the illuminating screen.

“Me?”

Deran’s throat bobbed as he nodded, “Yeah,” he quaffed the rest of the water before resuming his position, “If you want.”

“What about Pope and Smurf?”

With a glance which seemed to imply that Adrian ought to have known better than to ask, Deran shook his head minutely. “No. I don’t think Baz wants that.”

“Oh,” Adrian replied, “okay.”

Deran whisked his eyes away, his brows creasing inwards as he let out a growl, “Is that all you have to say? Okay?”

It was easy to snipe back but Adrian heaved a couple of sighs silently before regaining his receding composure.

“What do you want me to say, Deran.” Adrian’s voice was flat. Neutral. Because he wanted Deran to know that he wasn’t predisposed to an emotion so anything could be warranted and Adrian would handle it in a way that would circumvent around a situation where they both would say something that they would regret.

Deran frowned, “I don’t want me telling _you_ what to say.” He explained, “I don’t know why you have to say okay.” Deran started to shake his head, “Say _anything_ but.”

Adrian had to catch himself as soon as he found himself mumbling ‘ok-‘ but bit his tongue just as fast as he could. Okay. He hated that word too. It was too ambiguous but he had accoustumed to it because it was a safe word. It didn’t warrant any biased attempt. It was neutral. Adrian had made an attempt to keep it that way because the moment he chose a side, it meant that he had to fight for it. After years, he was tired of having to.

Okay.

It was too generic.

It was stoic. And that stung because Adrian felt anything but. He felt a lot of things but indifference was farthest from the truth.

“I’m so-“

“ _Adrian_.” Deran growled, “stop saying that, man. I _don’t_ care.” Deran kicked his feet to adjust the flailing blanket as it began to inch it’s way to the ground, “I mean, I do. I do fucking care. I just. I don’t want you to say it. You don’t need to say it. You never have to say it. _I know it_ , okay?” He had his voice lowered as he finished, almost as if he was absorbing the words more than he had meant for him to say it out loud.

“And,” Deran dug his fingers into cushion, “I don’t know what the fuck is the point of you saying it if you don’t mean it.” Deran tugged at the string loosening from the couch, “anymore. You don’t mean it anymore.”

Adrian could have responded. He wanted to. He really did. But he bit back his words, which at this point, started to taste like bile, letting Deran’s words sink it.

Where was the fucking lie?

He was used to apologizing because it had become habitual. Saying sorry might have become something of a convenience because it meant something to everyone else but him. It has lost it’s purpose years ago. So Deran was right. Adrian’s voice was resigning as he said and everytime he did apologize, it almost felt futile because there was no intent.

He had called him out on his bullshit.

But it was so innate to him. He didn’t know how to make it sound any different. Maybe it was just the fact that Deran was always at the receiving end of his apologies. Maybe it was because Adrian always felt the need to say it to Deran to avoid whatever the hell could have and would have happened.

“So,” Deran’s voice cut through his thoughts like a double-edge sword, “don’t say it. I know it when you mean it and you don’t have to _say_ it.”

The way he said it almost felt like Deran was disclosing something he hadn’t mean to. As if he had somehow just conveyed to Adrian something he had been doing for years; Deran had been rationalizing Adrian for himself maybe just as long Adrian had been doing it for him.

 _I know it when you mean it and you don’t have to say it_.

Deran knew. He had always known that that word meant nothing yet Deran had never called him out on it prior. He knew and he absorbed it but he had somehow found it within himself to tell himself that the word had meaning. Just as much as Adrian had tried to tell himself that whatever Deran did, it was okay because what they had in the grander scheme of things can’t be triviliazed by something so insignificant.

Deran was doing the same exact thing.

Adrian had to grow up for the both of them.

To Adrian, it was as if Deran had never changed but just aged.

To Deran, Adrian must have changed to the point where he wasn’t sure how to even talk to him.

He rationalized and so did Deran.

That was why they were walking around eggshells.

Because they weren’t on the same plain field. The same frequency. They had forgotten to notice who they were because they were always trying to find a way to rationalize _each other_.

 _Fuck_.

Adrian tore his eyes away and concentrated on the bright light illuminating from the screen. He focused on the way the pixels conglomerated to make one distinct picture. He watched as the cheetah crouched under the boulder, extending it’s primal arch before honing on it’s prey. Despite his attempt to concentrate on whatever occurred on screen, from his periphery, it was too apparent that Deran made no attempt to hide the way he would glance occasionally to peer at Adrian-almost as if he was waiting for Adrian to call him out for it. Deran wasn’t going to avert his eyes if Adrian were to catch him staring and it seemed as if Deran wanted him to do just that. Catch him. Look him in the eyes and say what was implicitly floating above their heads.

The very notion that they both understood. They both fucking understood the gravity of their situation. That they both understood that there was no way in hell they would be able to bullshit to each other.

Bullshit doesn’t get past a bullshiter.

It takes one to know one.

They both know that.

Adrian knew that.

 _Fuck_.

Deran was looking at him now, his expression no longer readable, though Adrian had a feeling he was gearing up to say something else. Something that would surpass a threshold that they would never be able to walk back on. He flicked his gaze towards front door and lifted himself up.

“Gonna go,” Adrian pointed at the open door and didn’t wait for Deran to acknowledge his departure, making a fastidious bee-line out of the room. There were starting to be moments where Adrian didn’t know whether he could really prepare himself for this process. This process that entailed for the both of them to have to be around each other, not because they were forced to, but because they were willing to-from that came, concrete lessons. They both were learning from each other and Adrian wasn’t sure if he could.

It almost felt like every moment was an opportunity to being more apparent of the grave mistakes they have made in the past ten years. It almost felt like they were scratching at a surface that was never meant to be scratched at.

Unveiling it didn’t seem as conducive as he hadn’t even thought it would.

It almost felt, suffocating.

Not the type of suffocating where he felt like he was in limbo but the point where he felt like this was the moment prior to him actually delving into an existential form. This suffocating wasn’t the type where he felt like his emotions had betrayed him, his body had resigned and he had become complacent with it. This feeling felt like it was necessary before he started to actually learn more about himself. It wasn’t a form of repression. It almost felt like a much needed form of expression.

It entailed all the same feelings; the tightness in his chest, the way his breaths would be ragged, the way his ears pounded, his mind flurried-

Yet he didn’t find himself feeling numb. Or exhausted as if he had been fighting the constant hysteria that soon followed. He almost felt like it was cathartic. Like when he crashed his board into a wave and his body, had somehow, found a way to lessen the impact by angling himself in such a manner that he seamlessly integrated with the water crashing around him and didn’t exactly slam into it’s trajectory.

It was almost the same, but it also felt very new. Good. It felt good. Cathartic. It felt like something they both needed.

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a lot of Smurf.

Adrian woke up earlier than usual. His back had started to ache to the point where he felt needles pressing into his lower back and that added discomfort on top of the tiredness that ached every bone in his body. He stretched his hands over his head as he tossed the blanket wrapped around his feet.

 

He turned his head to face Deran, who had his head tucked on top of the jacket he had worn the night before, the blanket now covering his entire body, but even then, he curled himself to the point where his knees protruded outwards from the couch.

 

He slipped quietly out from the room and made his way into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Adrian almost cringed when he noticed the redness under his eyes, tore his eyes away as the sight before him made him feel slightly perturbed, and turned on the faucet, using both his hands to splash some water against his face. He rubbed at his skin with the soap bar and rinsed in all directions before washing it off.

 

Adrian reached for the brush and haphazardly placed some toothbrush before shoving it in his mouth and making his way into the kitchen.

 

He reached for a mug and poured some milk, whisking the container into the fridge before shoving the cup into the microwave, running his fingers over the numbers before choosing what seemed like apt numbers would warm up his drink.

 

There was a pounding in his head but he was sure a drip of coffee would absolve all of it. Adrian tugged on the jar filled with cereal pops with his free hand, swerving around his mouth with his other.

 

He swerved his head as the beep sound cut through his ears, but turned back just as quickly as he felt the weight of the jar disappear. He found himself staring directly at Deran, who had clasped onto the cereal container, his hand lifting off the clasp before he reached for some cheerios.

 

Adrian had to recollect his posture because he was sure that he was just blindly staring at Deran, with every intention of that oxymoron, so he blinked a couple of times before resuming to reach in the microwave for the cup.

 

Deran had sat on a chair beside the sill, nibbling on the cereal as he continued to glare at Adrian. Adrian had to look away as he felt his skin burning under his glare, deflecting the moment he found a jar of sugar and poured it into his milk. Adrian dropped some coffee powder and swirled it with a spoon. He threw the spoon in the sink before he pulled open the cupboard for another cup, using his free hand to pull out a container of orange juice. He poured it in the empty glass and then clasped the top on the jar before putting it back in the fridge.

 

Adrian withdrew the brush from his mouth and made his way into the bathroom, withdrew the contents from his mouth before swiping his arm against his mouth to get rid of the white foam.

 

He ran the water from the faucet, letting the droplets of water hit against the surface perforate his ears. He gawked until he rinsed his mouth a couple of times and turned it off. Adrian glanced quickly at the reflection in the mirror but it was brief to the point where he couldn’t even discern if the redness disappeared from his face.

 

Adrian walked back into the room but found himself staring at Deran, who had abandoned his seat beside the window, the cereal jar on the table. Instead, he was reaching into where Adrian knew that Deran knew where the bars of granola were. Deran held the glass of orange in his left hand, which to the last Adrian recalled, was now almost completely empty.

 

“You can use the bathroom.”

 

Deran turned slightly around but gave a small nod before he went back to reach for a granola bar. Once had one in his grip, Deran turned around completely. The last Adrian recalled, he hadn’t been wearing the sweatshirt that he now was. Adrian also curled his hair into a loose bun near the base of his neck.

 

Adrian coughed into the sleeve of arm as he reached for the cup of coffee. His nose crinkled as the steam bashedly woke him up. His senses were regaining to the point where they were keenly alert of his surroundings. He took a sip and whisked his eyes shut as the taste embalmed his tongue.

 

He was awake.

 

“Adrian.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You think I can crash here for a bit?”

 

Hesitance.

 

As if Deran was expecting Adrian to refuse.

 

“Sure you can.”

 

And Adrian had to swallow hard as he watched Deran’s shoulder lower at his response.

 

Deran was hesitant.

 

“J might crash too.”

 

Adrian was grateful at the change of conversation. He took another sip to absolve the clog in his throat, leaning against the counter.

 

“Maybe. I don’t know. The kid’s missing, I guess. I don’t know where he is. Not that I should or I care. Or Whatever.”

 

And the very notion that Deran had brought up J meant that he did care.

 

“I’m sure, the kid’s fine.”

 

Deran itched at his neck.

 

“I guess.” His voice wavered off. “I have to go back and get some shit.”

 

Deran made no attempt to move. He had the glass between his hands and he stared at the contents within as he spoke. His hair began to loosen from the barely tight clasp. A couple of strands fell in front of his face and had blinded his vision. Deran tossed those free strands behind his ears and then only did he look up to look at Adrian.

 

“Probably be back later.” He continued, but his voice was lower than usual.

 

Adrian looked right back at him. Really looked at him.

 

Deran looked-different.

 

Everyday he was changing but today, he looked like he had sleep. Real sleep where his worries didn’t keep him up subconsciously or otherwise.

 

“You don’t look like shit today.”

 

Deran blinked.

 

“What?”

 

“You look less shitty today.”

 

Deran just wore a tight glare as he didn’t rebute.

 

Adrian stretched his hand back and tugged at the frame of the window up, letting the cool air inundate the room. The rays from the sun almost blinded him but it also made him hiss as it hit the back of his neck.

 

He rubbed at the prickling that washed over his skin, angled his body differently as to avoid the rays. Adrian placed the mug down on the table, lifting his legs up and placing it against the cushion of the stool beside his feet.

 

“Says the guy who reeks of BO.”

 

Adrian snorted.

 

“That’s all you man.” Adrian replied with, “I can’t take any credit for that.”

 

Deran wore a thin smile.

 

“Fuck you.” Deran laughed.

 

Adrian didn’t want to let that novel sound cut the joviality of their conversation. It almost ached at having to hearing the genuinety of it after such a varying time. Adrian found himself chuckling in response and he knew for a fact that it was as genuine as Derans’ was.

 

“You know what they say about people-“

 

Deran groaned, “Here you go again, man.” Deran mockingly rolled his eyes as wiped his palm across his chest, “What do they say, man?”

 

Adrian felt the chuckle die on his lips.

 

Because this felt nostalgic.

 

This felt like the moment they were fifteen and things were simple. He didn’t expect things to go back to where they exactly where but he didn’t think some rendition of it was remotely possible.

 

Deran picked up on the lack of response and the smile fell from his face as he stared at Adrian.

 

“Did I say something wrong?”

 

Adrian’s chest throbbed. Because Deran had sounded like himself. Like there were wasn’t a wall between them. Or shards of glass. There was just them. Having a conversation without walking on thin ice. They were responding to each other and it entailed nothing more than a mundane matter.

 

There was no false pretense.

 

“No. Nothing.” He replied as he reached for his mug.

 

Deran tugged on the stool from underneath Adrian’s feet. Adrian pulled his feet back and watched as Deran lowered himself to take a seat. He tugged at the sleeves of his sweatshirt, stretching his legs out before him before the thin smile reappeared on his face.

 

Deran whisked his head up as he asked, “ _So_ what do they call people like me?”

 

Adrian found himself smiling back at him.

 

 

* * *

 

Adrian peered from behind his bedroom room as he heard the key ringling against the knob of his front door.

 

Adrian frowned.

The knob twisted and turned.

 

 _What the fuck_.

 

Adrian took large strides to the front, pulling the door wide open but his confusion dissipated as he came face to face with Smurf.

 

She seemed slightly alarmed at the fact that the door had opened but she collected herself just as fast as she peered to look at Adrian.

 

 

"Adrian, hun." Smurf had her grip on her shades, had them half-way from her eyes, peering out from underneath just enough to assess the surroundings. Her lips were tight and she held some purpose in the next stride she made as she threw her bag from under her pit on the floor, as if that didn't even bother her as much as it should have. 

 

Adrian almost felt the need to say something. Ask anything. Tell her that Deran wasn't here. At the same token, he didn't think she was in need of such disclosure. Or had a modicum of interest of those details. 

 

Adrian tore his eyes away from Smurf, tossing the keys between his two hands, almost quietly behind his back as he let the slight jingle perturbate the silence. 

 

Smurf lifted her shoulders in an offset manner, whisking both her hands through the ends of her hair, which caught Adrian's attention because if he didn't know any better, it reminded him of Deran. The way they both had a purpose in the running of their fingers through their hair. The intentions varied but they were prevalent. Or maybe, they didn't. 

 

"There is something about you Adrian. There really is. And I can't put my finger," Smurf twirled her index finger in the air, "around it. Now my boys, I don't ask for much. They stay in my house, they follow my rules," she slid past him as she flicked her hand against the taper, "it's really not that hard. Now my boys, they can be a little rough," Smurf took a swerve and assesed the discoloration on her finger, reaching over for a towel, "but they always follow the rules," she looked up, " _always_." 

 

Adrian nodded. Because he did understand. It was almost warranted as it was implicit . Whatever they were all up to didn't go amiss but it was never really delineated to him. He had an idea but there wasn't a part of him that truly wanted to be cognizant of what it all entailed. 

 

"My baby Deran. Mind you, he is my baby," she had her arms crossed against her chest, "he has a little anger problem. Not as bad as Craig's because, Jesus, that boy." The exalted huff was almost an over-exaggeration as it was an understatement, "I love them not despite it but inspite of it. Anger and everything." 

 

Adrian always was on the outside looking in. The extent of her love was almost debilitating because it was always overshadowed by the fact that her love was easily given but it was just as quickly taken away. Like her love was contingent on the stringent policy that there was no way of circumventing around the only way to get it. Live in her house, live by her rules. 

 

4 grown men, who were surely capable of living on their own, were somehow always reeled back in. 

 

Adrian didn't understand it. But he wouldn't contest it. Because nothing is more persuasive than a psychological game. That , he was sure, was the most significant reason for this confoundment. Her reciprocating love and attention seemed to be contingent on a false basis. That following her rules would be a prerequisite to receiving her motherly love. It wasn't as if she made it any easy for them to abide by it. It wasn't as if she was asking them to do mundane things for her. She expected unexpectable things from them and the mere fact that they would possibly consider or complete whatever was needed, meant something.

 

It meant everything . 

 

Adrian couldn't disprove her love for them. He just didn't think there was infallibility to it. He was sure, that if push came to shove, she wouldn't cut the ties she has with them, she would make sure it was incinerated to her content. 

 

"So," her voice piqued up, "Deran likes you. You're his friend and he likes you. Now, I know that every time he and I have a disagreement," the word rolled off her lips as if it was an understatement , "he goes off somewhere. I don't think it's ALWAYS to you but I think when it matters, he does come to you." 

 

She leveled her arms below her chest, lifting her breasts in the process. The sheerness of her shirt did nothing to hide his discomfort. If it wasn't the way the way she would look at people, it was the way she held herself around people that made Adrian's skin crawl. 

 

As if if she knew if her words didn't convey her message, somehow everything about her could. It wasn't about proving to others that her words were infallible. It was to prove that nothing else could be. That whatever Smurf had wanted would either occur or no other alternative would be offered. 

 

"You're messing with my baby, Adrian." Smurf grazed her index nail against her forearm, "I don't like that. I don't like when someone comes between my baby and me." 

 

Adrian nooked his thumb into a crease in his sweatshirt, using his index finger to soften the edges as he stared at the soles of his feet. He watched as the floor fracked beneath him as he kneaded his toes into the wood. 

 

"What do you want, Smurf?" 

 

"Wrong question." 

 

Adrian dug his toes into the crevices of the wooden floor, looking up as she responded. 

 

" _How_?" 

 

"Nope," she dismissed, "you're asking the wrong question." She repeated. 

 

Adrian let out a low sigh. 

 

"Smurf-" 

 

" _Wrong_." 

 

"Wh-" 

 

"I said wrong!" Smurf slammed her hand against the counter between them, sending some of the contents flailing towards the ground. Adrian had to take a step back as a glass made a way in his direction, watched as the shards spread in all direction but made not attempt to show his discontent at her reaction. 

 

He focused on the way the stoicness disappeared from her face and the crease that formed in her forehead and the way her brows furrowed in, completely overtook her entire face. 

 

Adrian almost reeled at how fast it disappeared. If he hadn't noticed, he would have certainly not seen that she had just relinquished control over her emotions. The glass in front of him reminded him of what just transpired. 

 

Smurf wiped her hand against her pants, closing her eyes briefly before opening up them up again to pout her lips, "oh! Now what a shame," she hovered over the shards splayed across the floor, tsking as she lowered closer to the floor to pick a piece in between her hands , "the thing about glass that makes it so remarkable is that you can replace it. You can find another cup, another frame, another wielder. It always has a life of its own." 

 

She tilted her head as she lifted herself up, "humans don't get second chances, Adrian." 

 

And there was her point. 

 

She was threatening him. 

 

"I don't know what you think I did, but I wasn't intentionally doing it." Adrian felt the need to say. And he did. Because he knew Smurf. He understood her grasp on people. It didn't matter how much he felt like he could rely on Deran, she always found a way to shatter even a sense of safety. 

 

"That's the point isn't it?" She remarked, "you don't even know what you're capable of." 

 

"Capable of?" Adrian repeated, because at that point, the absurdity of her claims didn't seem to gloss over his head, "I'm not capable of anything." 

 

Smurf snorted, "oh, baby. Now if stupidity had a face, it would most certainly be all the men that I've come across including you." 

 

Adrian bristled. But internally. He couldn't  elicit a response because that was what she was trying to invoke. 

 

"You're not stupid, are you Adrian?" She continued, "you know exactly how to play Deran. You know the right tunes and what  _ticks_  him," her voice was clipped, "you know that when he fights with his family he goes to you. Not only does he go to you, he finds comfort in you. And that's where we have a problem, Adrian. I should be the one comforting my son! ME." 

 

"Baz had Cat and he has Lena. But he knew where his loyalties were. His real loyalties were with me. I never breast-fed that boy but he knows when to cower and when to lead and I instilled that in him! I did that!" Smurf took a step forward, just a small one, "I raised all of those boys just by myself. Everything they do, I love them regardless because I've fed them, given them a place to live, I've loved them and I expect them to give me their utmost respect and loyalty. I  _deserve_  it." 

 

Adrian couldn't formulate a response. 

 

He didn't even know whether it would have any effect on her. So he shut his mouth and listened. Because at that point, it was the most rational thing he could do before anything could transpire that would warrant some sort of physical restraint.

 

"I don't care what Deran does when he's behind closed doors," she spat, "but when I find that he's loyalties have swayed, I have a problem. And they have,  _sweetheart_ ," the despondency in her voice could not go amiss, "to you. So, _we_ need to fix that. " 

 

Adrian frowned. 

 

"Oh, don't act that stupid, Adrian," she hissed, "you think I don't know what Belize was? Other than him having a temper tantrum. No I expected that. Heck, I thought it would be good for him to get everything off of his chest. I did miss my son for five weeks but what I didn't miss is how relieved he was the moment he walked back in. That was the first time he didn't beg for my forgiveness. Do you know how that makes a mother feel?" She didn't wait for him to respond, "and ever since then, everytime he oversteps and continues to overstep, he doesn't come to me because he has  _you_." 

 

"I should be the only one helping my boys! Every. Single. One. Of. Them." She enunciated. 

 

Adrian found his footing as he reached for the sill and gripped on until his knuckles ached.

 

"I don't know what you're talking about." 

 

"Yes you do, baby. Yes you do. I know you do because if you didn't, this wouldn't be happening. Deran thinks he can tell me what to do. I mean I usually find my boys thinking they are capable of that but he's insistent, he's not letting it go. He says, stay away from Adrian. Not once or twice, but just enough that I'm starting to wonder if he'll ever stop. And what's even more interesting," Smurf took another step, "I can see it in all their eyes that they are saying the exact same thing."

 

"How am I responsible for that?" His voice was strained as it escaped his lips. He wanted to ask how in the living fuck did she think that burden ever fell upon his shoulders with his approval. He never meant for anything more than some reciprocation and the one he did get from Deran was atypical and debilitating. 

 

 

Even from his periphery, Smurf's lips widened and settled into an unsettling grin. "Oh baby, you always have been responsible for it. I'm sure Deran isn't an easy _friend._  He knows how to use his fists, not his mind. He could have physically harmed you over the years despite you being his only friend only because he doesn't understand what it means to have anyone outside of his family. Hell, I sure as hoped he would continue to feel that way." 

 

"Over the years, he was slipping away." She swooshed her hand in the air for effect, "and I know that you had something to do with it. You, despite being at the end of a very short temperamental stick, decided to stay alongside him for years. You could have left Oceanside. Went back home and started over. Because I know Deran. I know that the one thing he's good and that is showing to the world that no one can harm him. You probably have seen it, probably have felt every single bit of it," she spat, "You've shown him that he's capable of not only inflicting it but also being inflicted. And now he takes it personally. With me. But he doesn't take it with you because you know  _why_. You've given my son ammunition to use against me." 

 

Ammunition.

 

Adrian almost snorted.

 

It almost felt as if the gun was wielded in his direction for the past several years, never did he think that it had somehow been aimed at Smurfs’. It also was introspective for her to have to blame this on Adrian because he never felt the extent of this transition. The only person who had felt both the consequences had to be Deran because at the end of the day, both Smurf and Adrian had started to feel betrayed by the other. Adrian loved until it destroyed him. Smurf did the same. Deran was the only one who had any subjectivity in the matter when he had been the one to be assessing _both_ of them.

 

Adrian wasn’t necessarily aware of what Smurf and at the same token, Smurf wasn’t aware of what everything Adrian had endured.

 

He thought everything he had done for the both of them did not have any significant impact so for him to be told that there was and he wasn’t cognizant of it, it almost felt like the floor was slipping from underneath him.

 

But for her to insinuate that Deran was half-obtuse and that he was incapable of wanting anything more than her attention almost made his blood boil. Because that was the root of _everything_. Deran did everything for the attention and love that he always seeked from her. She managed to undermine it and trivialize it in the same sentence.

 

The games she played and it somehow always seemed to gloss over Deran’s head. It didn’t bother Adrian as much as it infuriated him that Deran couldn’t see this game. Deran knew it was a game but he just didn’t understand that no matter what cards he played, he was bound to always fail because the gamekeeper had intended for that to always be the case. This notion had basically impeded all of them from separating from Smurf. This had hindered Deran from everything. Even pursuing what he most definitely wanted from her constraints.

Adrian had to look away as he felt his eyes burning. He clenched his fists at his side and focused on the gull of air that sullied inside his place from the small crevice opening in his window. He watched as his skin crawled at every jab of cold air that rushed against his warm skin.

 

“You’ve turned my son against me.”

 

“No.” He whispered.

 

“You’ve made it impossible for him to rely on me because at the end of the day, you have given him a choice and if it has to be between me or you, he doesn’t even think twice about it.” She continued as if he hadn’t even spoken.

 

“You’re wrong.” He whispered.

 

“He will always choose _you_. You. The stupid little kid who sat with his tail between his legs and wore his misery on his sleeve. What? You think it makes you strong for being able to endure us for so long? No, it makes you stupid. It makes you dense. It makes me realize how pathetic you are that you were able to be kicked around for so long. You’re nothing, Adrian, if not a speck in the sand, a drop in the water, a ray in the sky. Insignificant and useless.”

 

“No!” Adrian whisked around so fast, he felt his head reeling, “No, I never had him, Smurf. He always chooses _you_. His family. I’m nothing. I don’t mean shit when it has to be between you or me. That’s how it’s always been so if you think that you can stand here and tell me that I’ve ripped you from some commissary bond, you’re out of your fucking mind! It doesn’t matter how much you think he has changed because you only have to be me to realize that shit hasn’t! It will always be you, Smurf! His loyalties will be with you! Nothing I do will change that because you’re always here,” Adrian jabbed his finger at his mind, “Nothing is going to change that. _Nothing_.”

 

“And it better stay that way!” She roared, “Now, I thank myself almost every day that it has. But one day it won’t and that day, Deran better be at my feet, pleading for my comfort. Not yours. Never yours. And when that day comes, you better be damn sure that he doesn’t do anything different. Do I make myself clear?”

 

Adrian swallowed hard.

 

“Are you deaf as well as _stupid_?”

 

And whatever wall of self-restraint that was held between him and his visceral emotions, shattered at that very moment.

 

“ _No,_ ” he spat, “I can hear you loud and fucking clear, Smurf. I make the choice not to say anything not because I can’t stand up for myself but because you choose to hear one thing whereas I have to say something else.”

 

He held his palm out in front of him as he recognized the way her mouth puckered forward, “You’ve disrespected me. You’ve humiliated me. You’ve made me feel less than a human being and I’ve shut my mouth close because I can feel the rope you have wrapped around your sons. I feel it every single time you’re talking to me and I made the choice to have that noose around me because I don’t expect that what I have to say will make any difference. So, no, I’m not fucking deaf.  I can hear every single thing you have to say and I made the choice to.”

 

His mouth twitched as he caught his breath, “I’m not your fucking son to just stand here and listen to you throwing your shit at me. I don’t need your validation or your love because it means nothing to me. You might be wrapped up in your own game but I’m not going to wrap myself up in it.”

 

When she laughed, Adrian bristled.

 

“You think this is funny?”

 

“yes,” she didn’t skip a beat, “I think this is hilarious, sweetheart. The fact that you think you can say this to me without consequences is absolutely delightful. I mean, it’s marvelous,” she clapped her hands together, “Now, it’s been a while since someone has told me to properly fuck off, politely or otherwise but hun, I don’t miss it. Nope. Not at all.”

 

Smurf looked to her side as she adjusted the seam of her jacket, “I see why Deran likes you. Oh, now I do. I definitely do,” she whisked her eyes to stare at him, “I see it now. It’s because you hold yourself a certain way and then you’re another person entirely. Just when I think I know you, you’re not you. That’s what they all like about you. Right? That you do have a bone in your spineless body.”

 

“My, I have completely underestimated you-“

 

“Get out.”

 

Smurf wore the thin smile.

 

“Get the fuck out.” Adrian repeated, this time making no attempt to see if she had listened, taking large strides towards the front door and pulling on the knob, “Get out!”

She didn’t falter in her steps as she picked up her bag and whisked the shades back over her eyes.

 

She still held the determination in her posture as she slid past him and out the door. Adrian wasn’t quick enough for the door to be slammed as he heard her words cut through his ears.

 

“People don’t get second chances, Adrian.”

 

 

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HARD rated M. Like legit rated R.

Deran lips coarsed, etching tighter as they thinned, the pinkness disappearing completely as his mouth swallowed them. His jaw was clear and cut, eyes graveling at the door beside him.

"Der-"

"Don't." He was abrupt and harsh, " _please_." But his voice softened as the word escaped his lips, straining at the very last consonant. There was no change in his expression but Adrian could feel the aura surrounding them suddenly swallow them both, whole.

It almost seemed as if neither of them were even breathing. The silence was almost daunting if it weren't for the fact that neither of them were perturbed by it as they were jarred by the undermining situation that had caused it.

Adrian felt dismayed. He knew better but it didn't feel like he had that resolute in that very stance to stay quiet.

He wasn't her son.

She wasn't going to create her boundaries and have him usurped into them.

He wasn't her son.

The creek from the floorboard alerted Adrian. He gravitated his eyes at the , now wide open, front door. Deran hung his head in a slag but at that angle, Adrian could see the side of his face.

"I'm gonna go."

Adrian tore his eyes away, focusing on the seam that loosened from the helm of his shirt.

"And do what?"

Deran shrugged, "I'll figure it out."

Adrian pushed off of the edge of table, almost as if it incinerated him. He marched beside Deran and slammed the door forward, placing his palm flatly against the surface to impede any further action.

"You're going to figure it out with me. Now. Not there. Not when you're driving there. _Now_. Because you're fucking angry and I know the type of shit you pull when you're angry. You do as you feel but not with your mind and I swear to god, if you do that, I swear I'm going to," Deran slandered backwards but almost purposefully, leveling his contact with Adrian and almost creasing his forehead as to say 'what? What are you going to do?'

Adrian shielded the door with his body, Deran watching as he did. At first, he glanced but the moment Adrian lowered himself back, Deran let out a low growl.

" _Move_."

"No."

"Adrian, _move_."

"No."

Deran flailed his hands above his head, resting them against his head as he started to pace in front of Adrian.

"What. Do. You. Want. To. Do?" Adrian repeated.

Deran tugged at his hair as he continued to take small strides. One. Two. Three. Turn. The longer he kept up with his pace, the quicker and harsher the turns became. Deran began to shake his head, a look of disbelief etched on his forehead, his eyes dull but with such intense purpose, Adrian had to look away.

"I'm supposed to protect you. I promised I'd protect you and I can't even-" his voice cracked, "I can't even - _fuck_. I can't even fucking do that?"

"Deran," Adrian almost felt the nausea induce in the pit of his stomach, "I can protect myself."

Deran shook his head, "no. No I _know_ that," he lowered his hands, "I know you can! It's just I promised you and I'm tired of fucking breaking my promises to you. I want to show that I'm listening and I'm here and I'm trying and I need to-I need to protect you. I promised _you_ that." He whisked around, his back to Adrian.

He heaved a rasp.

"I don't know what I'd do if I can't protect you."

Adrian rubbed at his neck.

He hovered his hand over his chest and feigned a tight pull. It began to hurt almost viscerally if not tangibly.

"You know that I." Deran made no attempt at finishing. As if that was the complete extent to which he would say it.

The ache metastasized to his throat.

"Adrian." Deran bellowed. It was a soft whisper.

The floor creaked as Adrian grazed the sole of his foot against the boards. The cool air was harsh against his skin, his hair prickling on his arms as a swarm of wind, washed over him.

"Say it." Adrian whispered.

Deran took a step back, his face incandescent as the only light that casted over him, was not in the vicinity of his position. Adrian could still discern where he was and the look he had on his face but it wasn't that distinguishable.

"I _can't_." Deran croaked.

Adrian took a small step forward.

"Say it."

Deran bit his lip. As Adrian took another step, Deran disappeared behind the corner. Adrian didn't miss a step as he followed him out. Deran took large impeding steps into the kitchen, running his hand against the foyer as he grasped onto the ledge for support.

Deran's back was to Adrian.

His breathing had picked up. Deran had his shoulders slagged. There was a sense of defeat to his demeanor but it was almost irrelevant because Adrian had to stop in his tracks when Deran whipped around.

  
They stared at each other from opposite sides of the kitchen. Deran breathing harsher than he had before but it wasn't ragged as it was rough. There was intent in his eyes. There was something he hadn't seen for years in those eyes.

Adrian felt like his feet were frozen to the floor.

  
“Deran.” Adrian tried. He had to kick himself internally when he recognized the way Deran was looking at him.

“Yeah” Deran rasped. Adrian watched as his Adam's apple bobbed. Then he noticed how Deran's hand lowered to rub himself through the fabric.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

“We can't." Adrian tried but even his voice failed him as he stagnated his glare against the motions of Deran's hand against his lower half.

Deran walked across the kitchen and grabs Adrian by the hip. His eyes are wavering all over Adrian's face. Almost as if he was absorbing his touch, every nuance in his flesh. Taking it in and recollecting it in his memories. As if he hadn't ever looked at Adrian the way he was currently doing so.

  
Deran made an attempt to push Adrian back against the counter. He dug his fingers into Adrian's skin a little harder. Deran kissed Adrian hard and let his lips trail up to the spot right behind Adrian's ear.

Adrian widened his eyes but albeit brief, as Deran began to grovel at his lips with his teeth, Adrian shoved his tongue out and flickered them over his hard teeth, which caused Deran to retract them back. Adrian grabbed him by the helm of his shirt and crushed their lips together, moving harshly against each other, lips almost devouring each other.

"I'll stop if you want me to." Deran said between the smacking kisses, even easing his grip and putting a small distance. Adrian rose his eyes to look at Deran. To really look at him. His lips were swollen and there was a tint of redness against his cheek. But there were those familiar eyes looking right back at him.

There was Deran looking at him like he hadn't ever looked at him before. Adrian rests his hand against his cheek, grasping onto his skin as he kneaded his finger through his scruff.

Adrian began to shake his head.

"No." Adrian feathered his finger over Deran's lips, " _No_."

Adrian gripped onto the back of Deran's neck and inched their faces closer together, momentarily gazing up to look at Deran before pressing his lips onto Deran, sloppy and hot and they're just trying to crawl into each other’s throats until they can't breathe anymore. Adrian was pretty sure they could have gone on kissing anyway except that Deran fingers were scraping up Adrian's sides and tugging his shirt up and over his head, so he had to stop. Sucking breath, Adrian leans back and throws his top into a corner.

“What if I wanna fuck you?” Deran said, letting his lips touch Adrian's ear as he whispers. Deran momentarily pulled away, keeping Adrian pinned against the counter.

"Okay."

" _Yeah_?" Deran's brows shot up. Like he was surprised. Heck, Adrian was surprised he had agreed.

But it was that look.

That familiar look.

"Yeah."

“Turn around.” Deran remarked, with an absolute urgency in his voice.

Deran didn't wait for Adrian to move. Instead he forcefully turned him to face the counter. Deran pushed Adrian forward against and kept him pinned to the granite by pressing his forearm against Deran's back. He tugged on Adrian's sweat pant and briefs all the way down to the floor. Deran lets go of Adrian for a second to let him pull his shirt off.

Deran had to bend down to cover Adrian's back with his chest and bit his shoulder before kissing it. He pulled down his own underwear and ran his dick between Adrian's cheeks.

"Stretch me out." Adrian reminded Deran. It had been a while. He was almost impatient if it weren't for the fact that Adrian recalled what would occur if Deran hadn't.

“Yeah I will.” Deran pushed a thumb against the base of his dick and presses his head against Adrian. He smeared his own precum on his thumb and rubbed it against Adrian for a second before pushing the tip of his index finger in.

“Shit," Adrian breathed out ,thrusting his hips back at Deran.

“ _Shit_.” Adrian hissed, " _SHIT_."

Deran stopped moving. He gripped Adrian's lower back and made a move to look at Adrian.

"What? What-am I hurting-"

"No." it was tough for Adrian to speak, "keep going." He rasped, clutching harder onto the ledge, his fingers aching as they dug into the surface.

"You sure?" Deran hesitantly seemed to pull back but Adrian whisked his hand around and clutched Deran's wrist.

"Yyeah. keep _going_."

  
Deran let go of Adrian for a second to open the top drawer where he knew there would be a pack of lube. Adrian took the opportunity to stretch out his back and step out of his sweat pants. Deran cupped his hand over Adrian's hip and squeezed it gently.

There were packs of lube floating around the drawer amidst the knives and the scissors.

Deran shut it once he had them in hand and pushed Adrian down again.

Deran leaned down against Adrian's back, butting at the skin of Adrian's shoulder and sucking on the back of Adrian's neck. He wrapped his arms around Adrian's waist and closed a fist around Adrian's dick. Deran grinded against Adrian as he jacked him off.

Deran's fingers were slick with precum and he took his hand off Adrian's dick long enough to taste him.

He dragged his lips over the back of Adrian's neck and bit somewhere behind his ear.

Adrian moaned and bit his own arm to keep from crying out. He tried to think of anything other than Deran's hands. The way they ran across his skin. The warmth that emanated out and ceased to persist within him.

“Stop.” Adrian finally breathed out. He reached down to still Deran's hand, “I’m gonna cum.”

“You’re that worked up?” Deran asked.

Adrian had to bite the corner of his mouth as he felt the urge to just scream.

“I’ll take care of you.” Deran whispered, pushing one finger inside Adrian. He hooked it until Adrian couldn't help but cry out.

Deran added a second finger and jacked himself off at the same time. He spreaded more lube and after a few minutes added a third one. Adrian had to take a sharp breath in.

“You’re really-.” Deran began pulling his fingers out before slowly pushing them back in.

“I know.” Adrian hung his head down.

Deran brought his hands from Adrian's face down to his lower back. He groaned as he pushed in and he kept Adrian pinned against the counter until he was all the way in.

“Ride me.” He ordered.

Adrian arched his back, fighting the temptation to just close his eyes and let the burning persist throughout. The previous words that escaped Deran's lip caused Adrian to be more attentive.

Adrian let out a hollow breath as he bounced against Deran, throwing his head back relishing how good it feels.

“Go- _fuck_.” Deran whimpered, "Go-"

Adrian knew what he meant. He says nothing as he's picking up his rhythm.

Adrian begins to ride Deran in fast long strokes, biting his lips in fastidious manner, soon realizing that he had just hit the right spot and has to slow his hips down as he’s pulling away.

“You okay?” Deran asked reaching around to play with Adrian's balls, “Huh?”

It felt almost strange having to be asked for such an inordinate amount of times how he was. Adrian was used to the usual routine. They both were. It almost felt different because it was different.

“Yeah. Yeah. Huh. Oh. _Yeah_. ” Adrian growled.

Adrian kept Deran's deep and moved back against him in short strokes. His breathing was labored and when he moaned, he noticed how his voice was wrecked.  
  
Deran thrusted back against him, “okay- _shit_?”

Deran stilled Adrian and moved in the same strokes.

“Right there.” Adrian cried out. He reached for his dick, "right _there_ - _there_!"

Adrian gasped as Deran moved his hips forward to change the angle. He gasped when Deran moves with him

Deran begins to bend over Adrian again, running both his hands over his back. He squeezed Adrian's shoulders before turning Adrian's face towards him. Adrian moved up to kiss him and it’s sloppy and fast and definitely a power struggle. Adrian isn’t in a position to win though and after he pulled away, Deran clamped one of his hands over Adrian's mouth.

Deran fucked him hard, slowing down because when Adrian spread his palms against the cool tile, Deran started to pull all the way out and slapped the head of his dick against Adrian's hole a few times before pushing back

Deran's growls were getting closer again with each thrust. He dug his fingers into Adrian's skin, ten white circles against Adrian's pale skin.

“ _Jesus Christ_ ,” Adrian's breathless and he had a feeling Deran was not going to last long either.

“I’m gonna-" Deran's voice is strained as he lets the word flow out.

“I wanna feel you.” Adrian bellowed. He did. He really did.

Deran slows down his pace, enough to throw Adrian off his track. Adrian swerved his head around to look at Deran, frowning as Deran gripped him by the waist, his brows creasing inwards.

"Adrian."

"Please."

Deran's brows only creased inwards even more.

"Ad-"

" _Please_."

Deran blinked a couple of times. He started to slowly nod but then gives a firm nod before resuming his pace.

Adrian began to jack himself off fast and even without seeing it, Adrian knew his fingers were hooked right under Deran's head, bumping against the ridge with each up stroke. Adrian could feel himself tightening inside Deran.

“ _Fuck_ , man.” Deran hissed, Adrian arching his back even further as the tightening began to desist his pace.

“Hard.” Adrian whispered, “Go hard.”

Deran growls in response.

“Like that?” Deran thrusted his full length back inside him. Adrian pushed harder against the counter, palms flattened and bracing for impact as his hips collided with the ledge.

“ _Sshit_  .” Adrian cried out, “Right _there_!"

  
Deran leaned down to kiss Adrian's shoulder. At the touch, Adrian turned his head around to kiss Deran and watched as Deran wraped his hand over the one Adrian has on his own dick.

“You sure?” Deran asked again, pulling away from their kiss just to make sure. Adrian edge his lips upwards, just to emphasize to Deran that he hadn't hadn’t just been playing along.

“Yeah.” Adrian nodded. “I wanna feel you.”

“ _God_.” Deran whined, trying to last a few seconds longer.

Shit.

“Grab my neck.” Adrian pleaded desperately, “come on." He urged. It was just in the blur of the moment. The heat that wavered into every part of his body that suddenly made him feel as if entire flesh was on fire.

Deran obeyed, pulling Adrian up to him by the neck, feeling him struggle and watching him close his eyes.

Adrian tasted the curdle of blood that ripped from the lesion in his inner mouth, realizing that he couldn't bite down any harder. It was almost too much as Deran pushed himself deep, collapsing forward onto Adrian as he came.

Deran removed his hand off of Adrian's neck and pulled Adrian in to kiss him.

Adrian continued to still jack himself off when Deran pulled out. From his periphery, he watched as Deran wiped off his dick and pushed his fingers back inside Adrian.

“Adrian." ” Deran growled, pulling away from their kiss to actually look at Adrian. It almost felt like Deran was looking into his eyes but also accepting an invitation into the ingress of his soul. Like at that moment, Deran felt everything Adrian did: the anguish, pain, desperation, need.

“Fuck.” Adrian cried out as Deran's hips start to stutter.

Adrian's skin is flushed and he could see Deran's angry red handprints stand out against his pale, flaccid skin.

Deran took a large step back to grab some paper towels from the island counter.

Adrian was still bent over the counter breathing hard, not being able to remember the last time they’d had sex this rough but with more purpose than conviction, definitely not since they had been out of highschool.Probably not since before Belize when Deran had been pissed at Smurf and Pope and whoever it entailed as he was a Cody.

“Did I hurt you?” Deran walked back to Adrain and placed one hand on his shoulder, concerned.

“No.” Adrian replied and his voice was still wrecked, “I’m just- You’ve been working out.”

“Yeah.” Deran shrugged. He slid one hand under Adrian's chest and pulled him up to lean against him. “Sure you’re okay?”

Adrian nodded but he reached down to rub the spot where his hips had been pressed against the counter and winced.

“I’m sorry.” Deran kissed at the space beneath his ear, “I got like-“

“Man.” Adrian found himself chuckling, “Don’t be sorry." He used the counter as leverage as he pushed himself off and mustered enough energy to turn around.

He almost stopped in his tracks when he leveled his eyes with Deran-Deran who started jabbing the paper towel against his flesh, sometimes running his cold fingers along the trail of Adrian's lower stomach.

Shit.

That look. That look was familiar. It had been years since had seen that look. Genuine want. Genuine need. Mutual respect. Mutual need. Giving but not taking. Asking and not forcing.

Shit.

"Deran," Adrian steeled himself as Deran stopped moving his hand, "say it."

Deran was frozen in his place. His hair hung over his eyes so he really couldn't discern much but time began to stagnate as Adrian held his breath.

The burning in his throat began to dissipate but not completely.

His eyes on the other hand were being to became hazy.

Like shit-

This was different.

Deran was different.

He hadn't looked at Adrian like that for years.

He hadn't-

"Iloveyou."

Adrian tore his eyes up.

His heart was drumming against his chest, the sound ricocheting off of his eardrums and against all the four walls in the tiny vicinity they were occupying.

Adrian wrapped his hand around Deran's wrist, tugged on it until Deran slowly lifted his head up. His eyes were wavering at the floor so Adrian grazed his index finger against Deran's flesh, tapped in a verbatim manner before Deran looked right at him.

"I don't think I can say it again." Deran's voice was so low, Adrian began to exhale in a mundane manner to pick up Deran's voice, " _so_.." Deran's voice has wavered off. So did his eyes.

Adrian didn't hesitate as he nudged Deran with his elbow, before shifting his head lower to glare upwards at Deran.

Deran's lips thinned.

There was a flush to his cheeks but a resolute to his demeanor.

Like 'there, I said it.'

Adrian cusped Deran's jaw and lifted it up as he planted his lips against Deran's, whispering a haste 'okay' as he wrapped his hands around  
Deran's neck and pushed forward until there wasn't an inkling of space between them.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone has a great holiday weekend!

It wasn’t even the light that caused Adrian to stir from his sleep. His lids felt heavy the moment he made any effort to open them. He removed his hand from underneath the pillow, rubbing at the itch right above his nose. Across from him, Deran wasn’t in sight.

Adrian raked at the back of his neck as he flipped himself over, taking a moment to get off of being in a reclined position, yawning as the disturbance perturbed through his body. He wiggled his toes when it daunted on him that they weren’t quite awake.

Adrian smoothened the creases in the sheet on the opposite side of where he slept, lifting the covers from off of the bed and throwing them against the hamper. At the sudden flick, he winced as he wavered his eyes to look at the source of discomfort. There were red lines that stretched from his lower back to his lower front. They were red to the point where it was inevitable that they bruised.

Adrian glossed his palm over the area, ghostly fingers hovering over what seemed like deep indents. He reminscined of the night before, hissing slightly when his finger accidentally made contact with his flesh. He retracted his hand, reaching over to the floor to pick up his sweatshirt.

One hand. The other hand through. Adrian was slow enough to let his hands swerve through the openings, using the helm as support as he lifted the cloth up and over his head, before settling his head through.

“You OK?”

Adrian rested one hand against his hip as he looked up. Deran had a towel raked against his waist, hair wet, inklets of drops began to run over the cheeks of his face. The stubbles weren’t there but Deran had kept just enough that he looked like himself without being unrecognizable.

“M’fine.”

Deran rested against the wall, throwing a quick frown as he settled his hands to his sides, “You sure?”

Adrian tugged on the drawer, fisting a pair of boxers, slipping them on quietly as he had his back to Deran. He noticed the dried patch on the side of his thigh and reminds himself to take a quick shower before heading out to do whatever.

As he closed the drawer, Adrian turned to take a couple of small strides in Deran’s direction, who had this point, had pushed himself off the wall, wavering his eyes at Adrian without really looking at him. Adrian has to bite down the smile that his lips are crewing to etch, stopping a foot away from Deran.

“M’fine.” He repeated.

Deran didn’t look convinced. Adrian wasn’t sure if he was convinced of it either. He did feel like a part of his body was incinerating, but he was sure it was nothing a cold shower and some coffee couldn’t rectify.      

Adrian made the move to take another step forward but even he has to stop and wonder _now what?_ Did they ever comfort each other at this capacity? Was he supposed to pat Deran’s shoulder? Was Deran going to reciprocate the touch? Did he need to and if he hadn’t, would Adrian be disappointed? Adrian watched as his hand falters to his side, cussing under his breath when he realizes that he really hadn’t had the slightest clue as to what was the apt thing to do.

And Adrian didn’t have to.

He had to catch his breath when Deran ran his fingers, both hands, clutching onto Adrian’s face. His thumbs began to circle on Adrian’s flesh, right beside the arch of his brows, but almost closer to the tip of his ears. The movement is comforting and Adrian has to heave a sigh when he realizes that he just as much subconsciously appreciated that Deran made the effort.

Adrian leaned into the touch, gently placing his forehead against Deran’s, lifting his hands to wrap them around Deran’s wrist. Deran thumbs his hand against Adrian’s jaw, his hands still gripping onto Adrian’s face in an almost gentle touch.

“I’m fine.” Adrian finds himself saying, because he could recognize that this was just as much of a verbal pondering on Deran’s behalf  to Adrian was telling him the truth to the question prior. Adrian wasn’t convinced before, but at that very moment, he couldn’t have been more sure.

He was fine.

And if he wasn’t, he was going to be.

“I’m fine.”

Deran gripped at the back of Adrian’s head, tugging him closer.

“Okay.”

Adrian had to catch his breath when Deran nuzzled his own nose against his. It was the faintest of touch, that Adrian almost misses it if weren’t for the fact that Deran continued to do it. Deran lets out a sigh as he pressed his forehead even further into Adrians’. His fingers run through the coarse of Adrian’s hair, his nails raking over the surface of his head. Deran draws his hand back to hold onto Adrian’s face, eyes closed as he shifts slightly to grovel into the contact.

Adrian almost fell into the touch but finds himself blinking fastidiously when Deran pulled away-not completely, but their foreheads weren’t against each other anymore. Deran still had his fingers clutching onto the side of Adrian’s face, his thumb continuing it’s prior motion.

“I’m gonna try, okay?”

“Hm.” Adrian’s reply comes out groggier than usual so he clears his throat as he says, “About what?”

Deran retracted one hand back, the other one still against Adrian’s cheek. Even with the slightest withdrawal, Adrian has to stop himself from asking Deran to not pull away but realizes that even the effort must have taken a lot for Deran to even initiate.

Baby Steps.

 “Saying _it_.” Deran started, “To you. I’ll try, okay? Just-just don’t expect me to say it to you all the time, okay? Because-I mean-i-I would but I can’t, okay? But you _know_ , right?”

Adrian’s resolute falters as his lips etch upwards into a smile. Like, _shit_. This was foreign territory for the both of them and Adrian was witnessing Deran contribute a fair share to the novelty of the situation. He was making the effort and it didn’t go amiss. Adrian uncurls his hands from Deran’s wrists, shifting his head to give a quick nudge into Deran’s palm before stepping to his side. Deran frowns slightly but that look dissipates the moment Adrian responds with a “I know. It’s fine.”

When Adrian noticed that Deran was going to refute, he lets out a chuckle, “It’s fine, Deran. I get it, okay? Don’t sweat it. Seriously.” Deran continued to have his mouth reform into the ‘I need to clarify’ form, so Adrian has to level his gaze as he sternly reiterates with a “It’s _fine_.”

Deran settled back against the wall, his finger noosed in the helm of the towel.

“I kind of do have to go back,” he rolled his eyes as he muttered,“deal with,” his voice wavers as he continued, “ _shit_.”

Adrian glared down at Deran’s knuckles, which were slightly gashed but now the discoloration had settled and there were purple blotches at the crevices of his fisted hand.

“Something about that?”

Deran tore his eyes to look at what Adrian was peering at. He grimaced a little bit as he lets out a meek ‘yeah’ for affirmation. Adrian reached over to cover Deran’s fist with his palm. He slid his hand against Deran’s knuckles, noticing the way Deran tensed the moment Adrian reached over.

“I do want to tell you.”

Adrian nodded. There was a part of him that wanted to push but decided otherwise.

“ _Hey_.” To which Adrian looks up, “I do want to tell you.”

Ok.

“But?”

Deran shrugged, “No buts. Not really,” he sighs heavily as itches at his wet scalp, curling a strand of hair onto his finger, “I kind of am too sober for this. Maybe get a drink and then I can tell you about this.” He raised his curled fist in plain view of his sight, assessing it in the process. He twirled it around in different angles, crunching his brows as he glowered at the gashes against the joints in his fingers.

“This about the funeral?”

Deran continued to shift his fisted hand in the air. He does pause momentarily to level contact with Adrian but drops it. Adrian doesn’t miss the way Deran mutters a ‘mhm’ as he kicked himself off from the wall and walks towards the bed shaft.

Adrian grabbed the knob to the bathroom, twisted and has to cower slightly when the ray of light disillusions his vision. He blinked in response, throwing his palm over his brow for shade, hissing at the direct contact. As he readjusted his vision, he heard Deran shuffling through the clothes on the ground.

“I’m fucking starving.”

Adrian turned on the faucet, cringing as the light continues to dismay him. He had to bend over to splash some water against his skin, then reached for the toothpaste, swirling some on what appeared to be a damp toothbrush.

Adrian leaned his head out the door, watching as Deran puts on a pair of new shorts. His shorts. When Deran looked up, Adrian shoved the toothbrush in the air, “ _Really?_ ”

“What.” Deran scoffed, “I didn’t see another one in there.” He waved his hand flagrantly as he threw the towel against the chair beside the desk, “Plus, it takes a bit to look not this shitty.”

Adrian has to stifle a laugh when he recognizes the purported need to specify that comment. Deran was mocking him about the jibe he had made the day before.

“Dude, _no_. Off limits.”

Deran rose his brow in response, “Keep one for me, then I don’t have to use yours.”

“Is that an order?”

Adrian’s smile drops when Deran whisks his head in response.

Oh.

“Not like that,” Adrian reiterated, “I meant, like. _Shit._ Not like that Deran.” He made an attempt to walk out from the bathroom only to his dismay, Deran placed his hand out, motioning for him to stop.

“No, yeah. I get it.”

“Deran-“

“It’s,” Deran almost pauses as if he’s contemplating to use a word alternative to ‘fine’ and Adrian gives him the time to. When Deran does, Adrian listened intently. “It’s whatever.”

Whatever was as ambiguous as okay and that did nothing to assuage his mind. Adrian peers at the mirror in the bathroom, has to wince at the sight of his face, and turns around to elaborate but Deran’s walking towards him, clothes in his hands, the towel now whisked around his shoulder.

He stopped midway from the door, but then takes another couple of steps before he’s standing right in front of Adrian. Adrian watched as Deran drops the clothes in the hamper beside the toilet, wiping his hands together against the towel around his neck. Once he’s done, he drops it in the basket to turn to look at Adrian.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” Deran started.

Adrian feels a slight tinge in his chest and has to frown in response. Because, _shit_. Regret was a double-edge word and the recipient of the pointed blade was always one person and one person only.

“ _Dude._ ”

Adrian batted his eyes as he glares right into Derans’.

“Stop doing that,” Deran starts jabbing at his temple, “You’ve got too much shit going on up there. Get out of there.”

Which leaves Adrian breathless if not stupefied. Because yeah. He was always wrapped up in his own minds. His thoughts were always inundating inside of his confined head space. But to have to hear it from Deran?

“I don’t know what _this_ means.” Deran motioned his hands towards him and then at Adrian, “We really didn’t do any of it correctly. I don’t even know what correct means,” he snorted but caught himself quick before continuing, “I know that I don’t know shit and I don’t expect you to know everything. So, we both got to try, yeah?”

Which had Adrian wondering whether Deran had always put a lot of thought of doing them the correct way. Because Adrian knew he could give Deran credit when needed but he was thoughtful. He analyzed things until he couldn’t. His greatest fallacy was overanalyzing. Adrian felt slightly attenuated at that notion but a part of him was curious.

“That’s if we’re gonna even try.”

Adrian wished he could have given him a proper response, maybe even a simple ‘yeah’ but he wasn’t convinced of it. What was trying if it entailed the same repetitive actions? Deran had started to give him strange looks so Adrian shoved the toothbrush back into the holder, crossing his hands against his chest.

“I’ll be honest,” Adrian began, “I don’t know. Okay? I mean I’m not regretting yesterday or anything like that. So, there is a chance we can but like, I don’t know? I mean I do but you know, the first time we jumped in too quick and neither of us knew how to get the fuck out. Or stop everything from going so fast. I don’t want to do that again, okay? I don’t want to jump head first in.”

Dark eyes softened at him.

“Huh uh.”

Adrian inclined his head, “It has to be different this time, Deran.”

Deran pursed his lips tightly. He doesn’t respond for a bit. Adrian takes it as a chance to switch off the bathroom light. Adrian rubbed at his inner thigh, wincing as he realized he peeled off the dry afterthought. Adrian shared a look with Deran, who had an odd look that passed over his face, and for that moment, Adrian wondered if he’d said something foreign.

“Like, boundaries?”

Adrian found himself nodding, “Yeah. I guess so.”

Deran began to gravel his head slowly, as if he was understanding where Adrian was coming from. Slowly, his face contorted to that of complete understanding. “Okay, go.”

“What?”

“ _Go_. Set yours.”

Adrian blinked his eyes. “I don’t have any,” he responded, “right now.” He elaborated, because at the top of his mind, the words started to jumble and he couldn’t elicit a coherent sentence that would have made an ass lick of sense. Because _shit_. Deran was standing in front of Adrian, asking for him to set rules. Asking him of what would cross a threshold that would ensure havoc. Asking him of what he wanted in order to ensure a mutual understanding.

Deran gave him a look, “No?”

“Well. Yeah. I mean.” Adrian found himself stuttering, “I can’t be your emotional punching bag.”

Deran’s lips thinned. His skin began to redden in response and Adrian had to shake his head in response, “Just setting rules.”

“Yeah. No punching bag,” Deran agreed, every word coming out with a jab as if the gravity of it dawned upon him, “Got it.”

Adrian wondered if he understood what that entailed and decided it was better for his judgement to elaborate. “Whatever happens between you and Smurf. You and Pope. You and even Craig, that’s not on me. There’s no leeway on that. There’s no, shit Adrian, I have a lot to deal with, bullshit. None of that. Because I have shit to deal with. Maybe not Cody Crazy but that’s an excuse and I’m just tired of excuses. And that’s an excuse.”

Deran stilled.

Adrian had to catch his breath at the completion of his remark.

“Okay.” Deran repeats, but this time there is almost gravity to the response.

“No sorries for things you could have not done in the first place.” Adrian continued.

Deran frowned, “I’m gonna fuck up, you know that right?”

“Doesn’t matter. Try not to do whatever it is you do so you don’t have to say it in the first place. You and I both know, right now, your apologies mean shit.”

Deran huffed, “Well, yeah.”

“So, try not to.”

Deran deepened his frown, “I’m _gonna_ fuck up,” he reiterated with more resolute conviction. Like ‘shit, you’ve met me right?’ kind of despondency hung over them both.

“Do your best.” Adrian offered because that’s the most he could. There was nothing concrete he could say or do that would let Deran uphold his end of the bargain but this time, this mattered. This ultimate giving the benefit of the doubt. That mattered. Because he had none to give two minutes ago and he was sure he mustered up one out of thin air.

“If I mess up?”

“Then you messed up. And you own up to it. No blaming shit. You fucked up, your fault. You fix it.” Adrian watched as Deran lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, laying his hands on his lap and fixating on the soles of his feet. In that position, Adrian wasn’t sure if Deran was absorbing anything.

“Anything else?” And with the way it sounded, Adrian was convinced Deran was not really looking forward to the next thing. Adrian could think of several more things that he could delineate in response but swallowed his words, thinking it would take a while to process this.

“Not now.”

Deran lifted his head up, “I am going to fuck up.” He repeated, as if that point was needed to be made and be cleared because Adrian was sure of the fact that Deran would. He expected him to.

“I know.”

“No leeway?”

“Nope.”

“What about a little bit?”

“No.”

“ _Shit,_ Adrian. You’ve met me right?” Deran croaked.

“Deran-“

Deran rubbed at his thigh, sighing as he stretched his hands above his head. He drops his hands as he looks up, a crease formed in his forehead that wasn’t there before. He appears as if he was regretful for even asking. His intentions might have been from a good place but even Deran couldn’t have expected the verbage that was fed to him.

“Just wait.” Deran holds his hand out.

So Adrian does.

Deran curses under his breath with the faintest whisper but Adrian was cognizant of his slight behaviors. That in fact hasn’t changed. He leans forward as he rests his hands against his knees, placing his head on top of his intertwined hands.

Adrian has to wrap a hand around his stomach when it starts to churn.

Deran makes a remark as he turns to look at Adrian, “We can go get something to eat.”

“I don’t want to end it like this.”

To which, Deran nods. And Adrian is appreciative of that fact. The problem has always been them keeping doors half wide open and after a certain point, there weren’t any that were completely shut. That’s the premise to an incorrigible situation that one can’t easily un-intertwine from.

Deran sighs loud enough to break Adrian’s train of thought.

“And Dave?”

Dave?

“What about him?”

Deran snorted as if it was obvious why he was asking, “is that why you-“

“No.” Adrian interjected, “I haven’t seen him in months.” Adrian admitted.

“Do you want to?”

Adrian frowned.

“ _Why_?”

“I mean if Dave is giving you everything I can’t, I can see why you don’t want to try.”

Deran looks down at his hands.

“I told you, I haven’t seen Dave in weeks.”

“You haven’t seen _me_ in weeks.” Deran countered.

“I saw you almost every single day for the past week.” Adrian huffed.

Deran growled as he turned to look back at him, “That’s not the fucking point.”

Adrian crossed his hands across his chest, almost defensively, as if he was preparing for the imminent counteract, “Then what is?”

Deran shifts his gaze, “the point is I’m not going to be like Dave. _Ever_. So like,” Deran grits at the back of his jaw, “don’t just-I don’t know.” Deran growls, “I’m going to be me. I’m going to _try_ and I’ll try to be the best possible me but I’m not going to be Dave.”

Adrian wraps his hands across his chest a little more tighter.

“I don’t want Dave.” Adrian remarked.

“How do I know that you’re not going to fucking compare me to some thing that I can’t compare to?” Deran retorts and Adrian has to pause as he absorbed the words. Where was the lie? Was he going to have to hold him to some standard?

“I want you to hold yourself accountable, Deran. I don’t want you to be Dave. I want you to be yourself. Fuck, that’s all I ever wanted. So like I’m not going to compare you to anyone if that’s what you’re thinking. I just want you to be the best possible version of you, that’s all.” Adrian felt slightly insulted because Dave? Dave was different. Sure. But Dave wasn’t Deran. No one could replace Deran. So to have to be undermined or even questioned about his intentions. Shit.

Deran whisks his brows inwards as if he was contemplating what Adrian had just remarked. It almost bothered Adrian that he even had to ponder his intentions.

“Stop thinking about that.” Adrian added. Because, forget Dave. He hadn’t thought about Dave since the day Dave had told him about someone throwing him into the ocean. That was the extent to his qualms. Not that he didn’t care about him but because Dave was Dave. He wasn’t Deran. That in on it’s own was self-explanatory.

“Then,” Deran huffed,  “Try to talk to me, yeah?”

Adrian has to stifle a whimper.

“What?” He musters with as much indifference as he possible could.

“Don’t just talk to me. _Talk_ to me.” Deran begins, only to heave a sigh, “Like, more than two words. Not just saying the same three words-I mean like, talk to me. Like you care. That you’re _listening_ and not just hearing me out. Tell me shit. So I know and I don’t have to try to pretend that I can read minds because guess what Adrian? I can’t fucking read minds.” And Adrian doesn’t have to feign hurt because he sure felt it in his chest. Because it wasn’t as if he didn’t care. He just had forgotten that it mattered that he did care about anything. That he was meant to show it rather than just constrict it with the confines of his body.

He wanted to refute but bit back his words because _shit¸_ there was legitimacy to that claim. Did he say the same three words? Not necessarily, but it wasn’t as if he made the effort to say anything more than what was needed. He assumed brevity would save some imminent conversation so he believed it was his best option.

He still does.

Adrian approaches Deran but for good measure, he stops an arm’s length away. Deran slightly lifts his head up but then drops it just as quick, running his hands through his damp hair for good measure, before scuffling, the droplets rising in the air before colliding on to the floor.

There was something of an ease that began to settle onto them. The more Adrian pondered about it, he was regretting disclosing his boundaries not because he didn’t have any, but because he wasn’t sure if he wanted to give that same benefit to Deran to disclose his.

The more it became apparent, Adrian has to uncrease the folds in his palm as he goes to sit beside Deran. It dawned on him the moment he seized the opportunity to turn to look at Deran that they both had fallacies and that Adrian wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear them.

In the back of his mind, he knew he always had them. He had told himself of them many times prior to this. But to have to hear it from someone else? At the same token, he was standing just a couple of minutes ago, telling Deran of his. How could this not be a double edge sword? Want something without receiving a repense in return.

“Deran.” He tried, because _shit_ , he wasn’t going to blur this at the sake of trying to avoid this as long as he possibly could.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not any good at this, too, you know?”

Deran turns his head in response.

“Like, don’t think I have any of this figured out,” Adrian elaborated, “because, shit. I don’t. Maybe I come off that way but I haven’t had the slightest clue as to what to do. I don’t know what to do after this. Okay? I don’t want you to expect for me to know because I _don’t_.” Adrian shifts slightly as he settled into the mattress. His leg starts to itch but he ignores it as he makes an attempt to look at Deran.

“I’m just as confused as you are.” Adrian concluded, letting the moment of silence consume them. He needed Deran to know that when it came to _this_ , whatever it was, whatever it entailed, he was just as clueless and it was just as novel to him, as it was Deran. He wasn’t going to lie and pick up the effort to understand what _this_ was, for the both of them.

Deran pursued his lips, removing his hands from his damp hair and settling them on his thighs. He began to whisk his lips in an almost unassuming way but settles them back down as he flickers to gaze at the phone that begins to rattle on the lamp stoop.

Deran doesn’t get up.

Even from where Adrian was sitting, the name that illuminated from the screen was hard not to miss.

Smurf.

When the rattiling continues, Deran stands up, takes three long strides to the bedside and then presses on the side gravel, which causes his phone to turn off. He shoves it into his hand as he retreats to sit back down.

“So we’re both screwed?” Deran declared.

Adrian shrugged. If he had to say it more informally, sure. The fact of the matter was, they had no idea how to circumvent around this territory. If it were up to him, he would have delineated it with more apt of a term, maybe even ‘undetermined’ or ‘new conquestors’ but he was sure Deran would jibe at his remarks till the end of very time.

“Yeah.” Adrian agreed.

Deran shot him a hard look.

“I have to tell you something.”

Adrian paused. Because he could instantly recognize the shift in tone. It was almost grave if it weren’t for the fact that he felt whiplashed by it.

Adrian nodded his head.

“Craig and I think-J even, we think that Pope did something,” Deran cursed as he hops up from the bed, as if it just incinerated his bottom, “something about Cat.”

Adrian doesn’t stifle the hiss that escapes his lips, “ _What_.”

“Smurf knows something.” Deran continued, “I think it’s more than that. I think-no, I _know_ she had something to do about this.” And before Adrian could even ask how, because that was very significant because once Deran discloses this to anyone other than Adrian, it’s always going to be out and up in the air. There were no takebacks. There were no room for regrets. “Pope got drunk the other night. He starts talking about Cat, not about the usual shit. Things like, I can’t explain but he starts mumbling about what he had to do and other shit but Smurf just walks in and she grabs him out. She doesn’t come back for hours and when she does, Craig goes to ask her what the fuck he was talking about and she says,” Deran cringed as he continues, “That it wasn’t any of our business, that _baby, don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to_ ,” he tauntingly mocks, “Then she fucking brings you up.”

Adrian almost felt the same visceral burning in his bottom as he stands up.

“Me?”

“Yeah.” Deran spat, as if the very notion of reminiscing about it, almost tore him apart, “She fucking starts talking about you and I-I just saw it? You know,” Deran starts walking towards the hallway, “That she _knows_ , that’s she’s always known!”

Deran growls as he puts more emphasis into every step he takes.

“She’s always knew and she’s never said _anything_.” Deran’s voice was strained as he began, “I told her to leave you the fuck out of this and she-she just fucking looks at me and-and she she just started laughing-I mean fucking _laughing_.” Deran seethed, “And I just couldn’t help _it_.”

Help it.

“So you punched _Smurf_?”

Deran brings up his knuckles and stares at them.

“ _Deran_.”

Deran clenches his hand into a fist, his jaw cracking as he continues to stare at his clenched hand.

“ _Smurf_?” Adrian has to assume the worst because at the lack of response, it doesn’t slip his mind. She was Smurf but god know’s what this revelation entailed. He was sure Deran wasn’t capable of that debauchery but at the same token, he thought Pope assumed that same attribute. Pope was dangerous, there was no question about it. But to what extent? That was always obscure.

But having something to do with Cat’s death?

“No!” Deran roared “No. No. No way.”

“Then _who_?”

“What.”

“What do you mean _what_?”Adrian repeats, feeling as if in that very moment, someone had ployed around with the idea of gravity and it’s illusory effects were harming his balance, “ _What?_ ” Adrian finds himself backing towards the wall at the opposite side of the room, resting his hands against the cool surface for leverage.

“Not who, _what_ ” Deran hollers in his direction but without any intensity, “We were all screaming. Craig tells her to stop fucking around with you and Smurf starts to rile him up. She starts bringing up shit about him that _I know_ fucks with his head and at this point Craig’s riling up. J’s just backing out of the room. Everything was too loud so I just-“ he draws his clenched fist back and whooshes it in his direction, “Slammed it into the wall.” Deran answered, “Over. And over. And over again.” He continued to repeat the movements in the air, “Until they stop screaming. And then I just left and I came here. To you.” Deran finished, his voice a bare whisper.

Adrian felt assuaged. Because it wasn’t flesh his fist had collided with. But a wall.

Adrian lets out a breath he doesn’t even realize he’s holding until that very moment.

“I went back yesterday, to Baz’s place. To give him a head’s up,” Deran sighed with a hint of irritation, “Craig’s already there. He’s just saying shit without making sense and Baz is kind of losing his shit. But like he doesn’t even question it, you know? Like he believes _us_. Like he had a clue but not really? And I feel like I’m losing my mind because we’re talking about Cat and her being dead and Pope having something to do with it and it’s not really hitting me here,” Deran dabs at his temple, “But here,” and moves his finger to jab at his chest.

“I just accepted it? Like I fucking knew that something’s just wrong, man. I knew it and I just accepted it. And for a second, it didn’t fucking bother me,” Deran revealed, “And I wanted it to bother me. I want shit like that to always bother me.”

Deran was making a point.

Jabbing a nail in its coffin?

Trying to get it to home field?

So Adrian stayed quiet so Deran could. But he had a hard time doing because graveling his mind around this seemed rather unlikely if not impossible. Pope? Cat? Was he responsible for her death? Why? What does Smurf have to do with it. _Shit_. Shit. _Shit_.

Adrian shudders slightly when he realizes that Deran is standing right in front of him. Deran rubs at Adrian’s back as he whispered, “Something is going to happen. I don’t know what. Or, _shit_ , when. But it will and like,” Deran goes to wet his lips, “I don’t know what’s gonna happen, okay? I don’t know what the fuck Smurf is up to. Or Pope. But I won’t let anything happen to you. Okay? You need to get that I won’t let that happen.”

And there it was.

The nail to the coffin.

The last hit to home plate.

This verbatim promise that Adrian had heard from the past couple of days, which if he conceded, had fell to a subconscious part of his mind. Because he thought he understood until now. He really did understand what Deran was trying to say. The gravity of the situation.

Deran stops his hand, but rested it against Adrian’s back.

“That’s who I am. That’s the kind of shit I will bring with me. That’s not going to change,” Deran removed his hand, his gulp swallowing the entire room, “So If you can’t deal with that. I get it.” Deran flickered his gaze to look up at Adrian, “I really fucking do.”

Adrian uncurled his hands from his chest as he meets Deran’s gaze.

“What are you doing?” He meekly asked, because _shit_.

Deran doesn’t respond. He takes a step forward and at this point, Adrian is at level with Deran, their breaths harsh and disconcerting. Deran’s wavering his eyes all over Adrian and Adrian tries not to succumb to the disarray. He felt disjointed but he also felt something entirely different.

“I’m giving you a choice.” Deran wraps his hand around Adrian’s waist and Adrian is thankful because at that moment, it felt as if someone had tugged the floor from underneath his feet. “You deserve that.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on tumblr: okaywhateverokayyes
> 
> I'LL talk about just about anything!


	22. I guess it's a christmas miracle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's been over a month.

He had to stop nibbling his nails. It's become much of an habitual practice rather than a necessary one. His mouth could be consuming a sandwich he had just made prior but somehow he always finds his finger pressed between both his caninines and the flesh peeling off in a tormentable manner. It was never completely coming off but it protruded out like a sore thumb so Adrian felt like he had no choice but to continue to bite the area.

He's also slightly annoyed with the fact that Deran finds it annoying because if anyone should be indifferent to this, it should be him. The guy who spends most of his time chugging a bottle of cheap liquor rather than washing the grease from between his fingernails. The guy who wears his greasy hair in a ponytail and doesn't bother to take a shower unless he somehow rakes his hand through and takes notice of the impending need to wash his hair. Which is comical sometimes if it weren't for the fact that Deran always ran a hand through his hair, just as habitually as Adrian nibbled on his fingers.

So old habits dying hard, well-

Deran usually doesn't say anything. He stares at Adrian with pursed lips but he continues to focus on what's before them, the console wriggling in his clutch and unceremoniously presses any button in order for the latch to open.

He mutters lowly under his breath in disdain and discontent when every other attempt ends in failure but he continues to stab at the keys. Adrian continues to nibble until he feels a slight ping reverberate from his index finger down to his elbow. He retracts his hand away and notices the dash of blood that starts to seep out from the cut.

Adrian quickly swipes his hand against his shorts, which fortunately were dark enough to abstain the mark and swallowed the crimson red immediately. Adrian notices the way Deran whips his neck to stare at him, lowers his gaze to focus on Adrian'a fumbling hand and Adrian has to still his motion when he notices that Deran is watching.

Albeit brief, it almost felt incendiary the manner in which Deran would just stare. It wasn't a glare where the look itself carried a judgmental tone but it was something entirely different. As if that intention was there but it was never relayed through.

Adrian feigns a yawn as he lifts his hands behind his back, stretching tendons he knew weren't sore and pressing his fingers into the soles of his palms to stagnate the continuing sting.

"Going back?"

Adrian ponders the question because if he were being honest, he wasn't sure if he wanted to sleep on the mattress, the one with the flings that were sure to leave his back in commiseral pain for the time being, would be the best option for sleep. He ended up going to Deran's apartment in the Strand , J taking temporary residence in the place. Adrian brought some food, which these two had finished the moment he placed the oyster pails on the floor beside them.

They had been playing a different game earlier. J wasn't as interested as Deran was because the moment Adrian had shoved a fork in the rice in the only crevice in the container, J settled the console on his lap and grabbed the pail with verocity that annoyed Deran.

Deran hisses a low 'oh for fuck's sake' as he whisks his head to shake his head in discontent at J's lackluster response. He then grabs J's console and elbows Adrian's leg as he tries to make his way back to pick up his platter.

"Jesus, Deran."

Deran continues to nudge his elbow into the heel of Adrian's leg as he bellows, "let's finish this up." He insists, continuing to jab Adrian in a offhandish manner.

Adrian had to raise his brow, " _finish_ it up?" He repeats, only because unchartered has levels that they both knew would take a good one to two weeks to complete, "no way man." Which only leads to Deran wrapping his cool fingers around his ankle.

Adrian hisses at the sudden touch because the shift in temperature does nothing but alarm his flesh. He feel the coolness seeping through his leg and has to bite the edge of his lip as another hiss tries to escape his mouth.

Adrian has to level his hands out before him when he starts to lose his balance. He wriggles his clasped leg as he lurches over to grab the recliner for balance.

" _Deran_." He hisses, because _shit_.

Deran retracts his hand back slowly but he looks up at Adrian with these defeating LOOK that Adrian knows is nothing more than a coercion but if he was completely honest, he didn't care to notice the difference.

Adrian let out a low sigh as he plastered both his hands on the ground, leveling down until he shoved his feet out in front of him and arched his back until it collided with the foot of the sofa.

Deran held the console with his free hand, a smoldering smile had appeared on his lips. He glances at J briefly before mouthing a quiet 'thanks' as he settles the console on Adrian's lap.

J's quiet the entire time . Even from his periphery, Adrian keeps an eye out on the kid as he finishes his meal. He gets up once to grab some water but he settles right back down, this time a little bit closer to the wall, and rests his eyes on the video game.

Adrian was still a little awakened when J shot up, fisting the helm of his pants in his hands as he waved his hand as he retreated into one of the bedrooms, the one with the duvet.

"I'm gonna go take a nap."

Which, for all intensive purposes, it had been since it was only midnoon but now, now it was 9:30 PM and it did nothing but induce some disdain that he had been sitting in the same spot for over eight hours to play a game. His stomach stirred lightly and when he made an attempt to scratch his back, Adrian has to stifle a groan as the numbness perforated his entire back to his lower bottom.

"I should probably." Adrian finally answers, realizing that he had been pondering for a little too long. He notices how Deran leans over for the remote and flips the off button, the slight buzzing sound that had become habitual, had vanished completely.

His ears were still buzzing and his eyes were sore. Adrian has to blink a couple of times to adjust his vision, which was percolated with lines that were just not there anymore. The stark contrast between the brightness from the screen and the hueish black that was swallowing the sky, it felt almost too distinct for Adrian to even properly see.

"It's kind of late."

"I guess so." Adrian does a double take as he peers through the window. He takes a couple of strides until he flisks his fingers underneath the window flasks and whips them open with both his index and thumb. He lowers his head and moves closer as he looks outside.

It was darker than he had remembered.

The lamp post lights were also flickering and the pathway to the back alley were virtually nonexistent. The moon that illuminated its iridescence highlighted the golden sand but even that was drowned by the waters washing over its surface.

"You sure?" Adrian hears how much closer Deran was. He retracts his hand as he turns to look at Deran who was not only up and about, but was midway in walking in his direction. He stops and then shifts his angle until he's standing right beside Adrian.

Adrian notices the way in which Deran grits his teeth, his jaw protruding out from his flesh. He keeps doing it until Adrian looks away but the sound ricochets off of his eardrums and inundates his mind. It was deafening in the silence that followed. It doesn't bother Adrian as much as it worries him.

Just as much as he was a habitual nail biter, Deran was a habitual everything. If one took time to notice, he was extremely terrible at hiding his visceral emotions. He didn't exactly wear his heart on his sleeve because those were words that neither of them ever slipped if they didn't soon know it warranted an incredulous look.

No, Deran was subtle enough that it would go amiss. Blink of an eye. A short gurgled cough. It took just one brief second for anyone to not notice how he was feeling.

Gritting of jaw always meant one thing. It meant he was pensive to the point where he didn't know what to do with all his thoughts. He was good at formulating them but he was never really good at surfing through them and trying to dismiss erroneous thoughts.

He didn't know the difference.

Adrian wasn't sure if he ever would and even worse, if he ever wanted to.

Do you want me to stay? Is what he wanted to ask but he bit back his words as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He fumbled through until the clasp of his key chain was stuck in one of his fingers. He brings it up in his palm and closes his fingers around the chain, peering over at the electric clock just beside the TV.

9:38.

"Pope could be like anywhere." Deran's voice cuts through his own.

Adrian peers at Deran.

"I guess so."

"No I mean," Deran lowers his head as he turns, "anywhere. No one really knows where he goes and what he does but like, he could be anywhere."

Adrian presses the sole of his foot into the rug. The seams run through the crevices of his toes and he notices the way they almost pierce his flesh.

Adrian pushed past Deran as he wraps his hand around the hooded sweatshirt that was laying haphazardly on the cushion. He slips one hand through the sleeve and then the other, before he flips the hood over his head, adjusting it slightly as the fabric over casts his eyes.

"It's not the far." Adrian replies with, loosening the grip he had on his chain, letting the keys swoosh mid air.

Deran whisks his lips, contorts it in a manner as if he was being consumed by what he wanted to say but the moment he nods slowly, Adrian understood that he wasn't going to.

"You guys gonna order in or should I get something, you know, to eat?"

Deran creases his forehead, "No. I think we're good." His voice is flat and monotone. Deran was getting better and modulating his tone. Sometimes it was brazen enough that Adrian couldn't pinpoint it but all it would take is for someone to just pay attention to see and hear what was within.

Adrian nods.

"Okay."

"Yep." Deran slams his hands on his thighs, itching at his back as he retreats in the direction of his kitchen. He kicks the stool with the hind of his leg as he tugs on a box of a corona. With one swift motion, Deran tears apart the seal and nooks the flask in between his teeth and rips the top open. He removes the cap with his hand and places it on the counter as he takes a quick swing.

Adrian doesn't move as Deran takes another gulp. His gulps start to swallow the entire room; the bobbing of his throat, the manner in which he took a quaff and then paused momentarily, before taking another swing, made Adrian want to heave a sigh because this. This was Deran.

Not say _anything_ but saying _everything_ .

Maybe it was dark.

Maybe Pope was lurking in the shadows waiting to pounce his intended target. Maybe he was as wild as any wild animal would be.

This was an animal kingdom.

It was better to know where everyone stood.

There were those who were the prey, the ones who needed to watch their back and know that no one else will be doing it for them. Their life span was timed and any day was theoretically possible of being the last.

There were the predators, the king of the kings. The ones who ruled and the ones who fed until their hunger was satiated but that hunger always came back because a beast was never satisfied.

An over simplification that was dauntingly apt in the larger scheme of things.

Nothing was more conducive to the predator than the prey being swallowed by the dark.

So-Maybe it was too dark outside.

"You don't care if I stay, do you?" Adrian tries, "I think I might be a little too tired to drive back."

Deran moves the bottle away from his lips. Even from a distance, Adrian notices the way Deran lowers his shoulders, the way his chest expands and a low sigh escapes his lips. The way his lips were etching to become a smile but were stagnated by the fact that Adrian was never supposed to know. Deran tightly pursed his lips as he replied.

"Doesn't matter to me."

So Adrian drops the key back into his pockets. Because if anyone else were noticing him, he had no intention of leaving and any excuse would have been permissible.

*-*

Deran dissapears for a bit. He gives a noncommittal shrug and an incoherent reply as he leaves. It's a little discomforting to Adrian to know that he didn't comprehend anything but he wistfully let's the will go to question it.

It also daunted on Adrian that as much as an excuse had it been for Deran to verbalize the possibility of a lurking Pope, sometimes the truth was seamlessly and inextricably tied into the comical nature of an WHAT was intended to be an innocuous statement.

He would be lying if he said that the ache in his chest didn't metastasize. Or the way his hands would clamp up when the pang didn't cease. The shrill of every jab of the clock that hung above the foyer, ticked until it pained Adrian's ears.

He has to turn on the TV and increase the volume when he feels his skin prickling. Adrian fists his phone in his closed fist and flickers his eyes every so often to see if his name would flash on the screen.

Adrian rolls out his legs in front of himself, crossing them over each other, but keeping just enough space to jab the other foot. He brings his other index finger up to his lips and presses it in between his teeth before biting down.

He tastes his flesh but the bile that is flowing in his throat, starts to commiserate the usually nonexistent taste. He wants to retract his finger but he continues to bite down, edging his nail in between his fingers and peeling at the tip of the nail in a manner that seemed distasteful and unnecessary.

He hears the clips of nails that shatter against the wooden floor, but the volume from the Tv mutes the fall.

He knows he's edging closer and closer to his cuticle but it doesn't deter him from continuing to nibble. His concentration, albeit briefly, would be on the way he felt this obsessive need to continue his habitual ritual rather than what he didn't want to focus on.

He knows he's a couple of bites away from the blood seeping out of his flesh and pouring into his mouth but even that doesn't impede with his mannerisms.

"Where's Deran?"

Adrian finds himself whisking his hand away as he looks up at J, who was wearing the languishness in every step he made. J goes to kick at the stool of the recliner before settling down. He kicks his feet in the air before retracting them and pulling his knees to his chest.

He's slept for hours but no one would know with the way he heaved a sigh that screamed 'I need to lie horizontally and preferably for an entire week without anyone disturbing me.' Not entirely but Adrian notices the way J would press the sole of his fingers into his shoulder, as if he's trying to stop the soreness from alleviating but he knows just as Adrian knows, that the feeling is much more visceral than they would have preferred.

He could shut his eyes and open them up, despite everything in his mind telling him that he had closed his eyes for a decent amount of time, that the time passed by is nothing more than a placebo effect. His body will never understand what it means to be fully rested because his mind would always be fully alert.

"Out." Adrian offers, "somewhere." He continues because hypocrisy was something he was extremely aware of and there was no way he was going to give ambiguous replies when he himself had a deep disdain for them.

But out and somewhere were borderline hypocrisy so Adrian clamps his hands together as he shrugs.

"I have no clue. Couldn't really hear him."

J nods. Not the nod of understanding but the nod that says 'I guess so.'

"Hungry?"

J drops his hand from his shoulder as he shakes his head.

"No, I'm good."

And Adrian has to laugh.

He mostly snorts until J is frowning back at him.

"What." J sounds offended but almost confused as to what brought upon this onslaught of hysteria.

Adrian has to bite down on his tongue as he responds.

"It's just," he clears his throat but another chuckle escapes his lips and he stifles the impending one just as fast.

"What?"

This time, J does sound offended.

"I mean, I feel like I always ask you if you're hungry. Or if you want to eat with me. And nothing else dude."

J raises his brow, "really?" He creases his forehead as he continues, "I don't think so."

"Yeah we do, kid. We always do."

"No way," he retorts just as fast, "we talk about other things."

"Sure, surfing. Bikes. Food." At this point, Adrian knows he is teasing the kid but he also knows that most of their conversations entail just the idea of food or the actual consumption of it.

It wasn't a predicament in on its own rather than absurd that neither of them ever contest it. It's as if they are okay with being asked and or being fed because it entailed nothing else. More could be said with silence and food than words exchanged. The kid didn't have to say much but Adrian always knew how he felt , not because J was an open book, rather quite the opposite. He was a self-reflection of an imaginary mirror that stood between them and it was dauntingly easy how Adrian could just know.

"Sorry."

Adrian tsks as he snorts, "don't apologize man. Nothing wrong with it. I actually enjoy eating in silence, you know?"

"I guess," J offers but shakes his head as he protests, "but I really do think that we talk about other stuff."

"I mean I guess when you aren't 20-questioning me, I suppose."

J pauses.

"I don't do that."

Another pause. It’s slightly longer.

"I don't, I swear."

Another pause.

"It's okay J, I don't mind. Ask away. Probably the only person giving you answers around here."

Adrian doesn’t mean to purposely sound that brutally honest but it slips without a forethought. He waits to see how J responds but he’s surprised when J nods, emanating nothing other than absolute agreement. He waits a little while longer to see if J would contest or retort but he stares back in silence as if he agrees wholeheartedly.

“I am sorry.”

“I know.” Adrian agrees, “It’s okay. It doesn’t bother me.”

J doesn’t seem satisfied. He purses his lips as he leans forward, clasping his hands on his knees as he lets out a grunt.

“But shouldn’t it?” J scowls, “Shouldn’t it bother you that I don’t tell you anything.”

And it almost feels as if Adrian has scratched at a surface he wasn’t sure that he was allowed to. He doesn’t mean to purposely because he understands the importance of space and not being shoved into a corner that the person didn’t want to be swallowed into. He feels guilty at perpetuating that notion because he wanted to be considerate.

“J-“

“You tell me about your parents, and your life and everything I ask you but I don’t tell you anything. Doesn’t that make you angry? That you know nothing about me?” J’s shouting by the time he finishes. He scowls when he catches his breath, leaning back into the cushion in confusion. Probably by the sound of his voice. Maybe at the tone of the conversation.

Adrian was slightly amused, not because he reveled in his outburst but because J was capable of holding so much in without having it explode in every sentence he vocalized.

Adrian has to think as he holds back a response. It has to be calculated not because he was indifferent to J’s genuine curiosity but because he wanted to be sure that the response was valid and just as genuine.

“J,” Adrian calls out, waiting until J unclasps his hands and brings his head back up to level his eye-contact with Adrian. Adrian offers a small smile in response because _shit_ , it was fine. It was fine to ask questions and he wanted J to know that he would answer back. There was not going to be any ambiguity between them because he wasn’t going to do that to him. He was going to respond as long as he had answers to every question J had.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, man. That’s not up to me. You-you’re a kid. Despite everything,” Adrian huffs, “I mean, everything, you’re still a kid. You don’t owe me anything. I tell you stuff because I don’t mind that you know things about me. And it shouldn’t bother you because I feel like I already know you. Maybe it’s not the J you think you are but it’s the J that you present yourself as. And if that’s the J you want me to know, then I won’t question it, man. It’s up to you to decide who you want to be.”

“And if you want to let me in on some things, that’s your choice too. Just because you don’t talk about your past or anything, it doesn’t mean that anything else you have told me, means any less. Okay?” Adrian turns off the TV and places the remote against his side as he looks back up, “  
You want to let me know more about you, you let me know.”

J nods. He doesn’t say much but he mumbles a quiet ‘sorry’ and before Adrian could even retort, the door flies open. Deran’s kicking with his foot and he growls as towers into the room, his hands occupied by something green and the size of maybe half a surfboard.

Deran kicks at the stool beside the front door until it's across the room. He settles the bush that he has tucked underneath his arm on the floor. He doesn't offer an explanation as he goes to the fridge and unsurprisingly grabs a beer bottle.

He grabs two more in his hands before he makes his way in their direction. Adrian shifts closer to the arm of the sofa before resting his eyes upon Deran, who shoves a bottle right in front of J, waits for J to reciprocate an emotion and then shoves it against his chest when J agrees to a drink. It’s not rough the manner in which he settles the drink in J’s lap and if anything, it was subtly permissive.

Adrian has to blink his eyes a couple of times as he ponders the reasoning behind Deran’s need to place a small pine tree near the front door.

“What is that for?”

Deran jumps into the sofa as he shifts until his back collides with the other armchair.

“A tree.”

He wanted to interrupt and say pine tree but Adrian bites back his words as Deran throws him a unwavering wave.

“Yeah I know. But like _why_?”

He doesn’t have to wait for Deran to answer when J’s groan cuts through his words.

Adrian turns to look at J, who has a scowl on his face as he settles the bottle beside the heel of his foot. He looks like he’s perturbed but that’s masked by the stoic expression soon afterwards.

“No fucking way.” The manner in which J cusses, Adrian has to wonder how the kid’s able to shift the tone of his voice in such a quick second. He can go from being a kid to someone who is very much capable of being an adult. One wouldn’t know by looking at him but sometimes he would say things that would have Adrian wondering what experiences shaped him to have to age when it was required.

“Yeah, well.” Deran mumbles as he takes a large sip.

Adrian was still left slightly confused. Deran doesn’t offer to fill in the obscurity but instead extends his hand out as J’s about to pass by. J halts as he lowers his gaze to stare at the protruding hand.

Deran doesn’t offer any words as he points to the front door.

J glances around.

“W-“

Deran growls as retracts his hand, “Just go look outside, man. Take my keys and check the trunk.”

“Your trunk?”

Deran holds the bottle to his lips but his mouth scuffles, the way it usually does when he’s annoyed.

“You’re gonna repeat everything I say too?”

“No-“

“Dude, I don’t care. _Go_.”

J shifts his weight in the same area his feet are glued to. He doesn’t move until Deran grumbles, “A bet’s a bet. You won fair and square. So, like, _go_.”

The way in which J’s eyes flick captivates Adrian’s attention because there wasn’t much light forecasting the entire room but it seemed as if all of it was surrounding J’s eyes at that one moment.

That bet they had a couple of days ago.

The bike.

The procross motor bike.

J doesn’t respond as he tugs at the knob before he disappears.

Christmas.

Adrian hovers his hand over the home button until the screen is flashing. It’s late but it’s not necessarily Christmas. It’s a day early.

_Fuck, the 24th?_

Adrian feels slightly alarmed when Deran covers his open hand with his own. He drops something on the palm of his hand that Adrian can’t quite discern. He glares down at their barely clasped hands and then mouths a ‘what’ as he catches Deran’s gaze.

Deran shrugs as he pulls back his hand.  
Adrian brings his hand in front of his face and has to squint a little bit as he focuses on the object in his hands.

He notices the 7 lamps, the three-legged base.

He’s not surprised when he jilts forward, almost as if the cushion burned his back.

A menorah.

“I know you’re not, you know. Not _that_ ,” Deran waves at the pine tree, “So I got you _that_ ,” he points at the menorah that Adrian is holding in his palm.

Adrian feels the clog in his throat and he knows that his vision was beginning to blur. He has to still his breath when he feels the need to just reach over. He knows that his head is beginning to feel less heavy and so he turns to face Deran, nudges backwards until his back collides with the armchair.

“Is it okay?”

Adrian has to swallow the tightness in his throat.

“Yeah,” he chokes out but clears his throat as he reiterates, “yeah. It’s-it’s uh-“ _fuck_ , “good.” He finishes and doesn’t continue because he knew he wasn’t capable of saying anything else in that moment. He tightens his grasp on the base when his fingers start to tremble.

It was more than that. It was more than just okay.

“Remember when Jonas said merry Christmas to you and you didn’t say anything back to him?”

Adrian nods.

“Yeah.” His voice is more strained than he means it to be. He hopes Deran doesn’t catch it and is thankful when Deran carries on with is strain of thoughts.

“Yeah well,” Deran continues, “Craig gave you shit for not saying anything back. And you still don’t tell him why. I asked you in class why you just don’t just say it back and you said that it’s because that’s not who you are. That it’s not what you _practice_.”

He remembers. He remembers it so vividly that he wonders how Deran does because it was years ago and it was the only time he ever talked about it and it never came up again. They usually didn’t have to bring it up because if they were together, they were doing anything but.

_Fuck._

Adrian knows he’s clutching it a little too tight, feels it the moment the pain infiltrates the palm of his hand. He loosens his grip a moment after but holds onto it as he doesn’t find it within himself to just let it go. He knows his breathing was beginning to get shallow but he doesn’t know how to stop so he continues to let his heaves consume the room.

Deran does notice it though.

“Hey,” his voice is mellow as he leans forward, tucking his head lower as he gazes up at Adrian, “ _Hey_.” Adrian knows he should fasten up and find his balance but he lets out a shaky breath when Deran creases his forehead and asks,“Is it that bad?”

Adrian chuckles.

He has to shake his head as he responds, “No. No-it’s-it’s good. It’s really good.”

Adrian’s flesh prickles the moment Deran lifts his cool hand against his cheek. He falls into the touch, letting his head rest against the palm of his hand. Deran runs his thumb in circles but it’s almost ghostly as he feels the sensation rather than the actual motion.

Deran’s hand shifts to grasp him by the strands of his hair, Adrian having to tilt his head back when Deran helps to bolster that motion with the tug of his grip. Deran rests his lips against Adrian’s, his warm breath doing nothing but prickle the corner of Adrian’s mouth. He tastes like beer and peppermint but Adrian absorbs that scent as he kisses back, using his free hand to grab at Deran’s shirt.

Adrian has his fingers pressing into the flesh of Deran’s chest and he knows that he’s grabbing a little too tight but he doesn’t retract as Deran pushes into the touch. Deran starts to knead his nose into the crescent of Adrian’s nose as his lips swallow Adrians’ entirely. The jabbing isn’t as debilitating as it usually is, as Adrian tilts at every moment that Deran does nuzzle his nose against his cupid’s bow.

Deran tugs onto Adrian’s hair a little bit harder and Adrian can’t help the hiss that escapes his lips. Deran catches it quickly with the swipe of his tongue.

They both know that if they had continued, what it would have entailed so neither of them say anything as they pull away. Their heaves become deafening in the silence.

“Good.” Deran mumbles as settles against the pillow. Even from where Adrian was sitting and with the dim lighting, he makes notice of the redness around his lips. He’s also aware that his skin is just as red around his mouth.

“You know, I’m not really religiously observant.” Adrian’s voice cuts through their breaths.

Deran chortles, “you’re not _what_?”

“I’m not-“

Adrian stops when J swerves the door open.

  
He wears a thin smile as he beams, “Deran, dude. _Thanks_.”

Deran gives a noncommittal shrug as he replies, “Won fair and square dude.”

“Yeah but,” J glances back briefly, “ _thanks_.”

Deran waves it off.

J closes the door and takes three strides before he’s back to sitting in the same spot he was. Adrian takes it an opportunity to swipe his sleeve across his mouth, dabbing at where he knows the redness would be percolating, hoping that this motion would cease the discoloration.

“But like, you know that, I’m not really religiously observant right?”

Adrian’s eyes flicker to Deran’s as soon as J’s words spill out.

Deran raises his brow at Adrian. He gives a quick glare at J before he’s staring back at Adrian.

They don’t stifle the chuckle that soon escapes both of their lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the show will be back SOON so I'll just leave it here for now unless I have a moment of reflection and I decide to write another chap. 
> 
> Always can talk to me on tumblr; okaywhateverokayyes


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me for all the sins I have committed, including the last chapter.

He was angry. Adrian knew that much. He could tell by the force that Deran used in every step he made against the wooden floor. It’s hard and rough, full with lackluster purpose that reverberated around the entire floor. He ran the water in the shower, knowing that Deran doesn’t step in until much later, when the droplets of water change to form a different tune. It didn’t sound as if all the droplets hit the tile, rather as if they were ricocheting off of someone.

Adrian knew he was angry because he watched the digital clock at the table in the farther side of the room. He took a quick flash the first time he’s had to look at it, then reading 8:43. He took another glance after he shuts his eyes and opens them up; it’s 9:02. Adrian pressed his fingers into the sockets of his eyes, kneading them into his flesh. He dragged one hand against the helm of the pillow before planting it firmly against the surface, using that as a leverage as he pushed himself up.

He felt the tug in his lower back the moment he shifts forward. Adrian hissed under his breath as he pulled his legs against his chest, momentarily, before dropping them onto the tethered floor. He doesn’t wait as he stands up, placating one hand against his lower back as he walked towards the bathroom door.

He doesn’t have to tug to know what’s happening but he does so anyway and he’s not surprised when he realizes that it’s locked.

 _Shit_.

Deran doesn’t lock. It was entirely based on the fact that he didn’t believe in privacy because he believed that it was overrated. He felt as if he had nothing to hide because he never did understand the pretense that entailed the word. He looked at entirely different than anyone else did. Privacy, abstaining from disclosing certain content to outsiders. How would Deran be able to discern that distinction when he looked at everyone as an outsider. Would he be able to hide everything?

Deran, could be pragmatic at times. Or, logical if it heeded his ways.

Adrian dropped his hand to his side, sighing under his breath as he walks back to the side of the bed he slept on, slipping the shirt in one swift motion, over his head, his hands through the short sleeves. He raked his hands through his hair, adjusting it until his ends aren’t defying gravity and looked slightly kempt.

He continued to hear the shower faucet as he walked past the door, and out back into the front room.

Adrian noticed the menorah that is placed on the window pane, just beside the pine. The light casted a glint that would have not existed if it weren’t for the fact that the angle in which the sun illuminated its rays through the tainted glass.

He smiled. He smiles until he notices that J is looking right at him. He doesn’t drop the smile but he makes sure that it’s not etched in a wide manner that wouldn’t suit him or anyone.

“Morning.”

“Morning, A.” J was quick to offer. It’s void of any emotion, so the ambiguity doesn’t bother him as much as the fastidiousness of it does.

Adrian grabbed the cup off of the shelf, leaning to grab the handle, tilting his hand as he poured the dark coffee.

“Pope’s back.”

Adrian stilled his hand. He finds his breath picking up but resumes the pouring of the coffee to silence his breaths. He doesn’t say much, watching intently as the coffee reaches the brim of the top. Something inside of him tells him to just continue, to let the contents fall, but he finds himself shoving the flask back into it’s place.

J’s leaning against the fridge. He has his hands clasped in front of him. He pursed his lips and his eyes are wavering but every so often, they fall on Adrian’s glance and Adrian could feel the anxiety emanating from J. It’s whiplashing to the point where Adrian has to settle the cup beside him, on the counter.

“Craig called,” J doesn’t hesitate as he offers up the information, “Baz took Lena down to uh-“ J paused, “mexico?” he guessed,  “He’s been gone for a bit and Craig’s called him too. So, I guess he’ll be back soon?” It doesn’t even sound like a theoretical possibility rather than a highly-likely encounter, “Probably gonna have to meet back at Smurfs’.”

Adrian glanced at the door, where he knew who was behind it. He took a once-over and returned his gaze upon J when he’s convinced that Deran’s not going to come out. He heard the pumping of the water through the tubes that enveloped in the cement behind the wall and he continued to hear it as he focused on J. Deran was still taking that shower.

“Does Deran know?”

J tugged at his sleeve until it covered the soles of his knuckle. Adrian takes notice of the darkish blue sweatshirt he’s wearing. He had seen it many times to know that that wasn’t J’s but something Deran had worn _years_ ago. When Deran didn’t have the muscle, or some weight in his chest. When Deran was just a kid, like J was at that moment.

Adrian found himself imagining how J would appear, thirty pounds heavier, ceps that would seep through the fabric. It wasn’t a stark contrast, seeing how Adrian had Deran or Craig, or even Baz as a basis to his comparison, it was this feeling in his pit that enveloped him when he figures out that he _doesn’t_ want to see J like them.

Putting on weight or muscle was a manifestation of moments and Adrian would rather have J being apt for his body mass than having to conform to the ideal that was present in all the other Cody boys.

“Yeah, he knows. Craig called him first this morning and then Deran told me.”

The shower.

The longetivity of it.

“Is Deran, okay?”

Adrian hates that word. He knew he did because he found himself bracing his hand against the ledge as he hears the word ricochet off of his eardrum.

People were always asking him if he was _okay_. Relative to what though? Sure, he was fucking fantastic when compared to the people who were actually physically abused on a constant basis. Or the people living in places with ongoing war and drought. He had a roof over his food and he didn’t have worries about when would be the next time he ate. His problems, in the larger scheme of things, were microagressions. He knew that and he wasn’t going to sugarcoat that.

So, was he _okay_? Relative to everything that is fucked up in this world, yes.

But he doesn’t discount the damage that had been inflicted, mentally. Relative to the only experience he has ever recounted, he’s _not_ okay. He still has to question matters that are mundane and he has to ponder until his mind starts to feel like it’s ready to explode.

 _Okay_. Maybe an apt phrasing of that should be: have-you-had-the-need-to-stick-your-head-in-an-oven-yet or are you at the contemplating side of that very idea?

Because, if he was being frank, Adrian was constantly on one side. Not too a macabre extent but he found himself having to wonder what _choice_ did he possibly have left.

Death. Which would be the main assumption, to be paramount to the ‘sticking head in the oven’ analogy but that never crossed his mind. No, it was never an alternative because it never appeared as if it were one. He never understood that idea of death because he was angry at a lot of things in life, but ending his life short, was not something he opened with welcome hands.

If anything, the prospect of finding levity despite everything was the reason to why he had accepted his anxiety. He had accepted the past ten years. He didn’t forgive his body for betraying him or the experiences he had to endure but he’s accepted, for the off chance, that he had something to look forward to.

The oven were days when he’s had a harder time conceptualizing that proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. It was never him looking down upon a body bag. It was never going to be that. It almost tore at every fiber in his body that some people could find it as an actual prospect. He doesn’t find it within himself to invalidate such a notion but he doesn’t find it within himself to conceptualize or rationalize it, either.

“Mommy didn’t teach you not to talk about people behind their backs?”

Adrian blinked his eyes, the sarcastic voice slicing through the silence. He notices Deran slipping into his shoes, but is suddenly overwhelmed by the words that escaped his lips. Once he absorbed the tone of Deran’s voice, Adrian finds himself frowning because _shit_.

This was J.

Julia wasn’t a prime example of anything, from what he’s heard. And even if she was, that was off-limits. That was implicit enough.

“ _Deran_.” Adrian hissed, glancing at J, making sure to put on his best ‘he doesn’t mean it’ face but it falters the moment he rests his eyes on the kid.

At the same time J mumbled, “I just wanted to know if you’re okay.”

“Yeah, tough shit kid. We live in the real world, nothing is going to be okay. So, what, Julia didn’t teach you that shit?” Deran sneered, “What _did_ she teach you? How to stick a needle in your arm or whore yourself out for some extra cash?”

Unwanted, was an understatement. Unheeded, was apt.

Adrian took a couple of strides until he was standing right beside J, squeezing the kid’s shoulder in a firm manner-once, maybe even twice, before he retracted his hand. He felt the bile in his throat as he stares at Deran, fisting his hands at his sides when he doesn’t see the apologetic scorn on Deran’s face.

“Maybe if you had a dad, he’d probably have taught you a couple of things here and there,” Deran added, his eyes void of any contriteness, “Shown you how to be a real man?”

J doesn’t let it slip by, “Like your dad taught you?”

Deran doesn’t flinch as he replied, “I don’t need anyone to teach me jackshit. I’m a man enough to figure things out on my own.”

Adrian wanted to shove his own head into the tiled floor, the irony of it all not escaping, “That’s working out so well.” Adrian added, biting down at his jaw when Deran’s eyes flickered at him.

Deran was hurt. But it washes away just as quickly as it appeared.

“Fuck you.” J’s shaking and Adrian is able to feel the tremors as if he was at the brute end of  Deran’s jab.

“Oh, tough guy!” Deran chortled back, his voice rising as if that retort had actually invoked something incendiary. Deran snarled, walking in J’s direction as he protrudes his head out in a manner that appears like a prodded bear that had just been rattled.

“Say that to my face, kid.”

J doesn’t hesitate as he spat back, “ _Fuck. You_.”

Adrian sees it coming, the way in which Deran retracted his hand, hand fisted, jaw clenched, the swoosh motion in which he withdrew his hand, intended to come in contact with J’s stomach. But just as Adrian saw it coming, when J shifted to his side, just as quick, it became quite apparent that J was able to notice too.

Time’s slowed until Deran’s hand comes into contact with the fridge door. He growled as he flaked his fisted hand in the air, closing his eyes briefly as that imminent pain shot through his arm. The speed of the moment resumed when Deran flickered his eyes open, turning on his heel until he’s glaring at J.

“Fucking Christ-“

J had a look on his face, a look so inconspicuously masked by the age that he was, anyone could misconstrue it as piercing daggers. If it weren’t for the fact that these glares were emanating from a _kid_ , anyone would cower underneath them. Adrian glanced at Deran, doesn’t miss the way Deran also shifts his gaze but albeit momentarily, Adrian knew that the damage already been done.

He had cowered and neither J nor Adrian miss it.

Adrian found himself stepping forward, placing himself in front of both of them, arms raised, palms flat, pressed into each of their chests. He was quick to take notice of how disparate their chests rose and fell. Deran’s insides were undulating in a manner that felt brittle. J was breathing harshly and he felt the slight flutter of his beating heart but it was not as consistent and rapidly beating as Derans’ was.

Adrian knew he had to say something. Something to ensure that this wouldn’t have escalated to the point of no return. He would have been a decent moderator but he wasn’t sure if, when it mattered, he could have de-escalated the situation. He wasn’t Baz. Or Craig. Pope. Or even Smurf. Neither Deran nor J would listen to him, not because they don’t hear him but because their strength outweighed him. Adrian’s qualms were futile as neither Deran or J feared him.

So, he’s surprised when Deran swiped his hand against mouth as he starts with, “Good, that was good.” Deran is choking out, “That’ll _work ._ ” Which, in retrospect, was a complete 180 from the tone of his voice, prior.

“Good?” Adrian’s screeching, “What was the point of _that_?”

J’s just as alert.

“Getting him _prepared_ ,” Deran said, as he was testing the word out himself.

Neither J nor Adrian say anything.

They expect Deran to elaborate but are met with absolute silence. Deran scoffed as he flexed his fingers, the cracks of his knuckles cutting through the deafening quietness. All their breaths were shallow, Deran’s being more rugged.

J’s dropped his glare. His lips were tightened to the point where it seemed as if someone had sewed them together. Adrian wouldn’t have been to able to discern the difference if it weren’t for the fact that a couple of minutes in, coarse but resolute, J spoke.

“For _what_?”

Deran snorted, “Smurf.” He responded as if it was the most obvious thing.

“What about her?”

“Oh come on man,” Deran started to scoff, “That’s what she’s going to do-point out your weaknesses until you break. You can’t just let her get to you man-“

“Like you don’t let it bother you,” J’s voice was flat as he interrupted.

“-and if she does, you have to like,” Deran continued as if J hadn’t remarked anything, “know how to not let it bother you here,” he brought his index finger to his temple and began to jab, “because that’s when she knows she’s got you. And no coming back from that shit.”

Intention was there but the execution was low.

“So you brought up his mother?” Adrian asked, because despite the logic, that was unheeded. It was vile. It was low. It was reminiscent of Smurf and to have to see Deran display such an overt act of _her_ , made Adrian’s blood boil.

“She’s going to use her against him!” Deran’s looking at Adrian with incredulity, “He knows that just as much as I do!”

“He’s just a _kid_!” Adrian shouted back, “he’ just a fucking kid and you don’t have to be the one to bring Julia up!” Adrian knew his voice was raising, “Let Smurf do whatever she wants because we _all_ know what she’s capable of but you aren’t proving anything by _preparing him_ ,” Adrian tested the word with scorn, “He needs to know that we’re on his side, Deran and when-“

“ _Side?”_ Deran hissed, “There are no goddamn sides in this! We all have to deal with our own shit, our own way!”

“There are always sides!” Adrian slammed his fisted hand against his thigh, “Just as there are always choices to make and options to look into. Just because _you_ don’t see it that way doesn’t mean they don’t exist!”

Deran’s glare intensified. His breathing had shallowed and his nostrils flared, feet glued to the floor, as he continued to stare at Adrian. Adrian burned under his look but he shat just as a resolute look back, despite his unhinged need to just melt into the ground.

 “I don’t get you.” J cut in.

Deran’s gaze stilled as J took a couple of steps to stand right in front of him.

“There’s nothing to get, man.” Deran’s voice fell.

J unclasped his hands, “Course there is. You talk about leaving Smurf and you come running back at every chance you get. You want to be with Adrian but can just as easily beat the crap out of him if someone just _knows_. You talk about getting out but you’re just as quick to help out with a job. You say one thing and you do the exact _opposite_ when you think no one’s looking.” J continued. Adrian knew just how much those words sliced through every crevice of Deran’s resolute.

Deran shoulders hardened, “What the actual _fuck_ is your point?”

“That half of you hates yourself to the point where you can actually stick your tail in between your legs and wag for the time being if needed, and that the other half of you, is full of _horse shit_.”

Deran let out a low sigh. It was not as shaky but Adrian sensed just how close he was to the brink of it.

“Guess what Deran? Everyone knows just how full of shit you actually are,” Adrian tore his eyes away as he settled them on J, “Except the difference being, you already hate yourself enough for no one to call you out on it.”

J doesn’t wait as he shoved his feet into his sneakers, heel still out, as he slammed his way through the front door. The sound ricochets off of all the walls and Adrian lets out a breath he doesn’t even realize he was holding.

Adrian didn’t know how to quite respond to that because if he was being objective, Deran warranted that slander. He was _preparing_ the kid for an onslaught that didn’t have to be vitriolic and especially forthcoming. His intentions meant nothing if J wasn’t expecting it. To J, Adrian concluded, it must have felt like an unwarranted attack. To J, it had to have been far worse because if the last few months have been any indication, Deran had subconsciously made the choice to take J’s side.

For all intensive purposes, that was what Deran had done.

Executing it just as improperly as a mishandled machinery.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Adrian sighed.

Deran fisted his hair in his hands as he raked his hand through, “I was just trying to _help_ him,” he confessed, the genuinety of that statement seeping through every word he spilled, “So much for trying, huh.” There was venom in his tone, bitterness that Adrian knew he couldn’t eradicate because J’s words had hurt him just as much as it had probably struck Deran.

Adrian took a couple of steps back until his back collided with the wall. He’s braced himself for impact but that didn’t mean that the ‘uhmp’ that escapes his lips wasn’t just as valid. He felt as if he had been shoved brazenly into a corner and the air was being punched out of him.

 _Fuck_.

But how? Just how in the holy hell would any single person not be incinerated by the truth? The truth when it was pertinent to family, which would always be everyone’s achilles’ heel. Heck, it was eve Deran’s, despite how much he had made it clear what he’s felt around them all. It didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less when faced with the gravity of the truth.

Family was family. No one gets to choose who that entailed but the consequences of that bond would always be inextricably tied to anyone.

  1. Deran. Anyone.



“I just wanted him to be better at it than me,” Deran continued, his voice softened. Adrian felt the urge to reach out but he kneaded his nails into his palm. He wanted to comfort but he just as much knew that Deran had warranted such an onslaught. He didn’t have to emulate Smurf, there was no need for it. And yet, Deran had. Because he felt as if it would invoke responses that  J could later keep dormant. That J would somehow find a way to not have the very name of his own mother, not incite any visceral pain. That somehow, J could control the anger he felt at knowing who his father was. That J could somehow find it within himself to shield away the anguish that would always imminently result by the two things that he would never have the answers to.

What was his mother without the drugs and who was he without his father?

“You didn’t have to do that,” Adrian finds himself repeating, “Even for you, that was low. _Fuck_ , that was Smurf I just saw there.”

Deran recoiled, “I’m nothing like her.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Deran’s lips tightened. His eyes saying ‘are you some of kind of idiot if you honestly thought I would be’ but his tone saying ‘I’m aware of how it sounded but that’s too far-fetched’.

“No,” he snapped, “Screw you. No way. That was me trying to-“

“help the kid.” Adrian finished, “that’s what you meant to do except you colossally fucked that up the moment you decided that he needed to hear about the two people in his life he’ll never get to know.” He stated, “That wasn’t your place to say that to him and no matter what your intentions were, you don’t get to decide when and how he should handle any of that. He’s a kid Deran and you remember how it was when you were his age. You didn’t get to have a choice because there weren’t any. You made them despite not having any because that’s how you were able to function. He’s not you and you’re not him. You’re no better than Smurf if you think emotional-“

Deran whisked his head, taking steps back as if the word had incinerated him.

“-emotional _manipulation_ will prepare him for shit.” He finished. Adrian jabbed his finger mid-air, frustrated, angry and just disappointed. He doesn’t disclose those visceral emotions but he’s sure that they are just as much apparent when he dropped his hand to his side.

“He’s not asking for much Deran. Really not. You take his side when he needs it and he will need it. But you will not play the role of distributing how much you can give and what you can take from him.” Adrian was angry that it was even needed to be said, “You’re not God. You’re not Smurf. You’re just Deran. And he’s just a goddamn kid. Let him be a kid for as long as he possibly can.”

Adrian began to pace in his corner, rubbing at his temple with pressing fingers. He was dismayed and in disbelief.

J was a kid but for how long, was the question needed to be asked. Sure, it’s inevitable that he will alleviate mentally faster than anyone would have to at his age but that was contingent on what he would have to deal with at the brute end of Smurf’s bullshit. It shouldn’t have to be brought upon forth by Deran, especially Deran.

If he wanted J to be better than him, he wouldn’t become Smurf. He shouldn’t need to. He had to be antithesis of her.

“Your intentions were fine but fucking Christ,” Adrian snarked, “That was _low_.” Which could quite possibly be the understatement of the day. “There are better ways to tell J to toughen up, you know, like? Having a conversation. Trying to be civil and maybe not be a prick?”

Deran’s looking at him but he’s just as riled up.

“I’m nothing like Smurf,” which doesn’t surprise Adrian that, that was something Deran had focused on, “ _Nothing_ like her.” His voice rattles as he finished. Deran started to shake his head, scoffing at no one in particular as he whisked around, hands on his hips and his head hung low. He started to mutter under his breath, incoherent but some words stood out.

_Not Smurf._

_Shit_.

 _Nothing_.

 _Smurf_.

“What the hell was that about ‘well that’s working out so well’,” Deran scowled. “You are supposed to be on _my_ side.”

Adrian jabbed his palm against his temple as he huffed.

“Thought you said sides don’t exist?”

“You believe in them,” Deran retorted, “So they are real to _you_. And you were not on my side then.” He remarked, his voice lowered but with just as much sternness. It was strange to see how his tone was void of any disdain but hurt, as if Deran had somehow extenuated that he wasn’t angry at Adrian as much as he was confused by that moment of what he saw as betrayal.

“You weren’t being fair to J.” Adrian offered, “And that was out left-field, man. I can’t be on your side when you’re wrong.” That was how his loyalties worked. He was loyal to fairness and justice so his convictions were never dismantled for one person. It didn’t work like that.

Deran growled as he threw his hands up in the air.

He began to pace just as Adrian continued to do so but his was much more inconsistent.

The air surrounding them was suffocating and Adrian knew he didn’t want it to continue to suffocate them both. He’s almost scared to ask Deran anything because he’s afraid that one question, and Deran would bolt. Not only that, the 15 steps forward he had taken, he would take a thousand steps back. He’s timid that Deran would freak the moment he approached him and worries that he has to apologize despite everything.

“Deran.“ He started, because even if he does have to absolve the tension, he wasn’t going to let Deran take those thousand steps back. No _fucking_ way would Adrian let that happen.

Baby steps. That’s what he had to remember. And that’s how it would be. For now.

Deran sagged his shoulders as he caught Adrian’s gaze.

“You think he ran off with my bike?” Deran asked, as he makes his way to the window and peers through. Adrian watched as Deran shifts his gaze but then pulls back with a dismissive shrug, “Still there.”

“You mean _his_ bike?” Adrian was quick to point out.

“What’s the fucking difference?” Adrian has to blink a couple of times when he realized that the tone in Deran’s voice was entirely different. It was void of anything bitter and he wasn’t sure if he was hearing it correctly, he sounded annoyed but to the extent that he was being sarcastic.

“You’re not mad?” Adrian asked because _shit_.

Deran creased his brows as he asked, “At J?”

“No, at me.”

“What.” Deran pursued his lips, “Why would I be mad at you?”

Adrian stilled.

The air wasn’t suffocating. He had misconstrued it entirely.

Adrian shrugged until his shoulders ached.

Which didn’t take too long as he had an insurmountable joint problem.

“You think he’s still mad at me?”

Deran sprang back to the window and peered out.

Adrian began to try to still the ache in his chest.

“He has every right to be.”

“Yeah but like, it’s me? You know. I always speak out of my ass.”

The manner in which Deran self-reflects caused Adrian to chuckle. Because _shit_. They had been saying inscrutable things back and forth to each other and despite all that, Deran hadn’t responded as he had usually would. He didn’t deflect and that was too much of a stark contrast to their prior disagreements.

Adrian had worried that however this ended, or resolved, Deran would take a thousand steps back.

It’s only when he continued to gaze at Deran does Adrian realize that Deran had just taken an inordinate amount of steps forward.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Hit me up on Tumblr: okaywhateverokayyes


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAH. Back. Briefly? Yeah.

“Whaaaat?” Craig’s fast as he scurried away from the wall he had been leaning against, taking large strides in the direction in which they just walked in from. Craig was wearing his flannel shirt but he wore a stain evident of something greasy that it glistened from the white shirt he wore underneath. His large feet collided harshly against the wooden floor, Adrian having to instead focus on the large arms spread wide, aimed in his direction.

Craig wrapped his one hand firmly behind Adrian, nudging him forward, soon their chests crushing against each other. Adrian was sure that if he even tried to tilt his head, he would be soon crushed under Craig’s pits. He focused on his breathing as Craig bellowed him with his other hand as he picked him up.

“Mother fucker.” He smiled, “Good to see you, A man.” The putrid smell of beer and liquor emanated until Adrian recoiled innately. He lifted his limp hands to spread them against Craig’s cool back, clapping a couple of times before pulling away.

“Craig.”

Craig wore a toothy smile that made Adrian chuckle.

He was drunk.

Not particularly surprising.

“ _Craig_.” He mocked, a light chuckle escaping, his voice jovial as he turned in Deran’s direction, “Good to see you too, asshole. What’s it been? 6 days.” Craig bellowed Adrian towards the tier, “Could you like, tell one of us.”

Deran had disappeared for a brief period before he turned around the corner, gripping onto a beer bottle in one hand and water in the other.

Craig continued to walk until he comes to the end of the patio, raking his hand through the ends of hair as he jostled onto one of the recliners. He lifted his feet up and over the cushions and hovers them in the air before spreading his feet on the armchair.

Adrian grabbed the rail of the chair, tugging the rear leg with his foot before he rubbed at his ankle as he sat down.

“Hey.”

Adrian looked to his side, watching as Deran crouched beside him, his attention directed at Craig before whisking his head in Adrian’s direction.

“Water or,” Deran frowned as he tries to read the label, “this shit?”

Adrian stretched his palm out to grab the water bottle. Deran shifted his gaze when the both of them hear Craig groan softly. He had his hands raked through his hair, his palms pressed against the flesh of his forehead and he continued to rub his thumbs in a circling manner.

“You okay, man?”

Craig doesn’t make an effort to answer.

“He doesn’t look so good.” Adrian mumbled, as he wrapped his hand around the damp bottle.

Deran scowled as he shrugs.

“He’s high.”

And then it clicked. Of course he was. Drunk and high. That had to be within the parameters of what Craig usually did. He always had a reason to do one or the other, and sometimes he never offered a valid reason to do both. Not that he needed one because he shouldn’t even be risking this shit.

Adrian noticed that Deran was still hovering beside him. He sagged his shoulders as he let out a low sigh. Deran rubbed right below his jaw before he took a step towards Craig.

“Do you need something, man?”

Craig threw his palm out and wavered it slightly.

If he hadn’t known better, it was unbecoming of them to even continue to embark on risky things but then again, when did the potential of getting caught every discourage them from doing the very thing that would put them at risk? Probably never.

“How’s Baz?”

Deran looked at him. His lips were tight and his brows were stagnated as he replied.

“Don’t know.”

“Where’s Lena?” Adrian asked next.

Deran held eye contact, “with Baz.” He dropped his glare as he thumbed at the tip of the bottle, “Probably down in Mexico.” He muttered, void of any emotion. It almost seemed robotic the manner in which he added on that detail.

Adrian noted the way in which Deran’s nose twitched. He was aggravated. His shoulders were still sagged but he had lifted them slightly as he took a sip. He wore an indifferent face that almost seemed as if Adrian would be at an incompasse at being able to glean anything. But he doesn’t have to wait to ask.

“Baz is seeing someone.” Deran mumbled, “Down in Mexico.”

What.

“Already?” Adrian doesn’t make an effort to hide his discomfort by the recent disclosure.

“More like, he has been for a while.” Deran murmured, “Maybe for a while.”

“A year.” They both whipped their gaze in Craig’s direction, “Or maybe longer. Who the fuck knows.” Craig muttered as he removes his hands away from his face and tilts to his side, facing them.

“And who cares,” Craig continued but his voice betrayed him as his words fell flat, “Cat didn’t know, so…” his voice wavered off, but an uneasiness spread amongst them as her name escaped his lips.

She was dead.

Cat wasn’t there anymore. Lena didn’t have a mother. And the idea that Baz would have not been faithful to her-it seemed rather  inexplicably inapt. Not because it wasn’t unwarranted, but because it was wanton. This was Baz and Cat. They had known each for years. As long as it had mattered. They were supposed to have that united front.

It didn’t bother him that they didn’t, it bothered him that it was the only preconceived notion that he had.

Adrian felt sick at this notion that they had both up at a front. Cat wasn’t capable of that. Cat was nothing like them. She didn’t have to put on a façade because everybody knew what she was. Strong. A good mother. Independent. Adrian started to count the many times that Cat had stood on her two feet.

He hadn’t talked to her as often as he would have but she was never weak or incapable of doing what she wanted to do. She was antithesis of that.

She was better than all of them combined, and then some.

“When’s the funeral?” Adrian cleared his throat, “This weekend?”

“Can’t have one.”

Deran’s the one to growl as he asked, “Why _not_?”

“They won’t release her.” Craig doesn’t miss a beat as he replied, “It’s an ongoing investigation. Until they figure out how she got there and who put her in there, nothing is going to happen.” Craig’s eyes dull as he continued, “They won’t even let Baz see her. Other than the time he went to go see if it was even her.” He’s sarcastic as he finishes.

With a glance which seemed to imply that Deran ought to know better than to ask, Craig shook his head as he lifts his head slightly up, “Could have known that if you had been here, man.”

“I said, I’m sorry.” He was quick to reply with.

Craig scowled, “No the fuck you haven’t. That’s the first I’m hearing it.”

“Yeah, well..”

An easy silence fell between them.

Deran took a long sip, tilting his head back momentarily before swinging a larger amount. He rested his hand at the helm of Adrian’s chair, slid his one leg a shoulder’s length apart before quietly murmuring under his breath.

“So what’d you tell the cop, A man?”

Adrian, reflexively extended his hand out as Deran retracted his leg back, fastidiously, swinging to face Craig before removing his mouth from off of the tip of the flask.

“Doesn’t _matter_ what he says.” Deran tightly said, waving his hand at Adrian dismissively. Adrian retracted his hand, dropping it to his side. There was a slight pang of dejection but it evaporates when Deran glances back at Adrian, albeit briefly, wearing a thin smile. It’s weighted as the contours of his eyes gravel inwards. Adrian returned the gesture with a nod.

“Uh,” Craig leveled forward, “it does, dude. He’s your alibi.” Which, Adrian was.

“I got my own.” Deran was fast to reply with. Adrian noticed that Deran had huffed under his breath as he raked his hand through the ends of his air. He tugged until he catches Craig throwing his feet in the air, planting an elbow against the cushion for support, as he slowly lifts himself upwards.

Craig gave Deran a pointed look, one that screamed ‘ _well, what the fuck is it’_.

“Don’t worry about it.” Deran snarked.

Craig’s brows creased inwards in response. He darted his glare at Adrian.

“Uh what’s he talking about?” Craig’s monotone voice is replaced by one with curiosity, interspersed with annoyance.

Adrian felt the daggers that were piercing in the hedges of his forehead. Deran stilled, maybe even held his breath but doesn’t go as to far as to answer for Adrian. Which, at this instance, Adrian doesn’t know whether to be thankful for that or convoluted by the dichotomy that was presented-what would Craig say about the fact that Deran was going to tell them that he was deciding to go top himself off? And was that even a better alternative to what they had hoped Deran would go with?

“If he says he was with me,” Adrian began, “They’re gonna ask what we were doing together.”

“Say you went to go surf.” Craig scoffed, as if it was the most obvious answer.

Adrian could hear the slight crack of Deran’s jaw, glanced in his direction and threw in a disconcerting glare. Deran bit down even harder, the indents protruding from his flesh had deepened.

“Yeah, makes sense that I drive eleven hours to swim in the north shore.” Adrian hoped the sarcasm seeped through.

Craig continued to give him the same pointed look.

“ _So_ what man?”

Deran scoffed, “That’s the goddamn sea, Craig! You want Adrian to go tell the cops that we both drove eleven hours to surf in a _sea_ when we live right beside a _fucking_ ocean!” Deran’s barking as he finishes, “Are you out of your _mind_?”

Adrian sensed the escalation, so he braced both his hands out between them, “The less questions they ask, the better.” There was a sense of urgency in his voice, “We tell half-truths, they aren’t necessarily a lie. We’ll say the least we can without it having to be a lie. Okay?” Craig and Deran growl at each other from the opposite sides, “ _Okay?_ ”

“Well what’s his half truth?” Craig doesn’t even direct the question at Deran, “Because he can’t lie for shit.”

Deran’s laugh cut through Craig’s words.

“I’ll be fine.” Deran was dismissive, instantaneously.

Craig ignored him, “Adrian.”

“I’m right here, asshole.” Deran interrupted.

“ _Adrian_.”

“Right. Fucking. Here.” Deran’s voice rises.

Craig jabbed his forehead against his palm, “Why do I even bother?” Adrian assumed it was meant to be a quiet whisper but when Craig scoffs in Deran’s direction, he’s not so sure. Seemed tactical. Seemed apt. Deran’s chest continues to heave but his breathing has resumed back to some sense of normalcy. If Adrian hadn’t seen his large structure beside him, he wouldn’t have even know that someone had stood beside him. He was so quiet. His breathing was dulled.

“You can’t surf a tsunami, fucker.” Craig added as he flexed his hands up over his head.

Deran’s laugh only deepens.

The reference flies over Adrian’s head. He tried to pin it down but the more he repeated it within the confines of his head, he comes up empty-handed.

Craig doesn’t say a word as he slugs his way back into his place. It was a loft place despite how small it was. There was enough back space because he was closer to the breaches. The wind’s draft had hastened but because of the holster, it smoothened as it grazed Adrian’s skin.

“He’s right you know?”

Deran, for the entire time that they had been there, had slid next to Adrian. He rested his hands on his knees as he gives a languid nod, directed at Adrian. He shoved the bottle in between his thighs, parsing his lips as he arches his back.

“Yeah.” Deran’s voice was soft, “I know.” There was weight in his words, Adrian could feel it. He slid his hand to lay his palm flat against Deran’s knee, gave a quick squeeze before dropping his hand to his side. Deran had decided to sit against the pavement. He brought his knees closer to his face, resting his elbows against the joints of his caps. He looked so-

“You think  saying _that_ is not gonna help?”

“I didn’t say that,” Adrian turned to face him, “ _But_ -“ Adrian paused, kneading his fingers together, “-I also think that the less they know, the better.”

Deran whisked his lips, gave a noncommittal shrug but heaved a sigh that carried far more than words could.

“You worried about what Smurf would-“

“No-“ Deran interrupted, “no.”

Which stupefied Adrian into silence. He expected Deran to maybe go off, even go as far as to say ‘I don’t give a shit’ but to have to hear a resounding no seemed finite. Seemed as flat out denying and being defensive would be an affront that he couldn’t capitulate. Seemed as if this ‘no’ wasn’t simply just a refusal of the notion but just an offhandish way of saying ‘when is it not about _her_?’

“It’s not like I’m lying.” Deran hangs his head low as he whispered. It’s so quiet, Adrian has to really focus on Deran’s lips. As to blink several times to see if Deran is even saying anything before watching his lips etch out and then back in, repeatedly, as if he had said something.

“If that’s what you want to do, then that’s what you’re gonna do.”

Deran itched at the back of his neck, “Yeah, well…”

“Don’t worry about it now.” Adrian offered, “We’ll worry about it when it gets to that.”

Deran nodded.

But his eyes dimmed as he looked away.

It’s as if he hadn’t understood.

It’s as if it hadn’t mattered what Adrian had said.

“I got it!”

Craig’s roaring voice causes Adrian to flinch. Deran growls from beside him as Craig makes his way back to the recliner opposite to them.

“You,” Craig smiled as he points at Deran, “Just tell them that you two were you know, doing shit together. You know, together-together.”

Deran stilled.

“ _What_.” His voice is raspy as he replied.

“Like, not like that. Or maybe like that. It’s not like they can jump down your throat if you admit to that, man.” Craig’s smile etched wider, “And Adrian,” Craig shifted his finger in his direction, “You just say that it-“

“I’m going to strangle you.”

There’s a silence that falls amongst them. But the most enigmatic aspect of it was, there was no malice to Deran’s reply. If anything, he sounds annoyed and slightly indifferent. It was as if this implicit thing that they had was not so much implicit and that having known that Craig was aware of it, made it that much more indifferent.

Deran wasn’t defensive.

He was just-

Irritated.

“No one cares, man.”

“You don’t care.”

“No, Deran.” Craig snarked, “ _No one CARES._ ” Craig frowned, “No one gives one shit, Deran. Not one. And if they did, you think we’re gonna let them say anything to you? No. way. Man. No _way_. I’d like to see any of these short fucks try to say even one thing. I got a brain to pick with that short shit, Ned anyway so if that..” Craig rambled, his voice lower.

Adrian ascertains that tone of voice. Concern seeped into every word that Craig enunciated.

If he was certain about one thing, it was that neither of them would let anything happen to each other.

There was consolation to be found in that but when Adrian glanced at Deran, he was sure that it wasn’t grasped that way.

Deran continued to say silent.

“It doesn’t matter now.” Adrian said, standing up, wiping his palms against his shorts, “We’ll figure it out next time Sanchez shows up.”

Adrian peered behind Craig and watched the offshore. He felt the wind braze the flesh of his neck and hovered his hand over his eyes, to shield himself of the rays as he glances up.

Deran drifted away from Adrian when he lowered his gaze. He had his hands crossed across his chest, his brows etched inwards, as if he was in mid-thought, and enough silence to consume them all into an abyss.

“Well uh,” Adrian coughed into his elbow, “I was going to catch a drift before I went back to work so uh-“

Adrian watched as Deran continued to watch Craig.

His eyes drafted unceremoniously, scurrying to find something from Craig.

Adrian began to realize that Deran doesn’t when he kicks with the heel of slipper, against the wooden floor.

“Count me the fuck in!” Craig roared as he nudged his pants upwards.

Adrian threw a quick smile in Craig’s direction but it doesn’t stay long when Deran shakes his head, “I have to go to do stuff.”

Stuff.

Adrian slid his hand into the pocket of shorts, searched for the cool texture of the metal before yanking his keys out.

“ _Stuff_?” Craig snorted, “Get your ass in the water, man.”

“I told you-I got stuff to do.”

Adrian sensed that this time, it was directed at him. He could feel the glare piercing into his flesh. He suddenly felt warmer, even as the breeze softened the prickles. He dropped his gaze, watching as he wrestled with the noose in his slipper and his toe was struggling to get unearthed from the clasp.

He almost shudders when he felt the cool hand pressed into his back but bit down on his lip when Deran nudges him to the step ladder.

They both walked, words unspoken, Deran’s hand had still been pressed against his back. Adrian noticed his truck in his periphery, goes to swivel the keys and shove it into the lock when Deran grabbed him by the wrist.

Adrian stilled.

“Hey.”

It was mellow.

It was-

“Craig kind of surprised me.”

Adrian gritted his jaw.

“You’re pissed.” It was rhetorical.

Nevertheless, he shrugged.

“Okay,” Deran started, “I just didn’t want to-“ pause. “I-“ another pause. “-we’re too obvious.” Deran struggled to find the words. Adrian sensed his grasp loosen but it was still swarmed around his wrist.

“Not that it matters,” _but it sounded as if he was unsure¸_ “Or whatever.” _Hesitant, in fact._

Adrian wanted to say that it didn’t matter, that it was trivial and that he’d really like to get into the draft before he had to go back to work. But the words die on his lips when he gritted his teeth together, the scraping of his teeth, harsh and invocative of what had irked him about the entirety of the situation.

“I’m not mad at you-“ He began, “Just, I don’t know how to feel about _it_.” It referring to someone else noticing. Someone else putting pieces together. Which wasn’t a lie. “I don’t know if I should feel any different about it.” But it wasn’t the full truth either.

“It’s weird. People just staring at us. At me. I mean-I saw it in Craig. Like he knew but he didn’t know me. Kind of like he wanted to not know that part about me. Just weird to see him just say it just out in the _open_ like that. Like it didn’t matter.” He catches his breath, “And it _doesn’t_ but it does?” He’s unsure as he finished.

Adrian knew that Deran had valid concerns.

And if he was being honest, he couldn’t have said it better.

It was as if he had grown two imaginary heads and only Craig could see that on him.

It was as if Craig was seeing right through him without even scratching at the surface.

“You can’t surf a tsunami, huh?” Adrian repeated, the gravity of the words dawning on him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: okaywhateverokayyes


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I'm writing in phases? We are currently in the last phase of this story.

The rain splattered against the windshield with sheer force that alarmed Adrian to the point where had to desist pressing onto the accelerator. He kept a pace that felt apt for where he was driving, the street nearby had a crossover to maybe a store or two. The crowd would cease to exist, considering that one-it was a tacoria and the other was an auto repair shop-but the mere fact that the thunderstorms exacerbated to the point where three blocks down, the lights had given out, no one should be outside.

Hopefully.

He turned on the wipers, fisting his phone into his free hand, taking a quick glance at the screen to notice ‘2 messages’ tab that popped in the corner. He pressed the side button to turn off the screen, throwing the phone to the side seat. He gripped both his hands on the steering wheel, sliding his right hand until he could rest his elbow on the armrest.

The wet pavement is now inundated with water that refused to seep into the sewers. Adrian whisked his head to take notice of the backflow, cursing silently under his breath. He doesn’t think much of it until his tires lost traction with the precipitation, having to swerve opposite to the direction in which the car swerved, gently pressing on the brakes when the car ceased to desist.

He glanced to his side, wiped the window with the cuff of his shirt, noticing no cars in sight and jostled the gear lever to ‘P’. He removed the keys from ignition, settling them against his shorts as he heaved to catch his breath.

Adrian went to rub at his chest, the adrenaline creeping in momentarily and flooding his entire train of thought.

 _Friction must have been reduced_. Which only meant that his tires were scrapped.

He lifted his head to glance at the dashboard, the tire pressure monitoring system bright and blazen with a seeping yellow. He arched his back and rested his head against the headrest, closing his eyes to gloss over the last time he had his tires inflated.

There wasn’t a quick answer he could deduce so he accepted the idea that they indeed had been deflated. Had to have been. Probably worsened by the flooding. He had been on the corner of Hoffstaff and Maples and the conditions on the road would do nothing but worsen his tires if he weren’t cognizant of all the pot holes and overgrown foliage.

Reduced friction and underinflated tires were signs of a distress signal. Conflated with the fact that the water was slamming against every crevice of his car with sheer force that could shatter any generic glass in these moments did nothing but aggravate his qualms.

Just as Adrian was about to grip onto the door knob and clasp it forward, he caught a ‘stop’ sign decapitated from it’s holster. It laid against the side of the road, the bark of the wood that held it up is displaced and wrecked. He glanced around, took notice of the fact that it was not indeed a four-way crossover but it wasn’t any less significant that it had been on the ground.

It wasn’t safe, regardless.

He leaned over the arm rest, grabbing his phone in his hands before glancing at the rearview mirror. He inserted the keys back into ignition and pulled the lever in ‘R’, pressing on the accelerator with as little force as he could, silently thanking anyone in the vicinity as the water didn’t propel into the makeshift.

He wasn’t going to have that much resistance which would only be conducive.

He parked the car to the side, leaving the keys in it’s ignition as he left on the blinking lights on, the tail lights blinking bright enough that it’s hue splashed onto the puddles of water in his periphery.

Adrian checked one more time in the rearview mirror before he unclasped the door knob, pressing one foot onto the pavement, the water rising just above his ankle but as he slide his other leg from underneath the steering wheel, he dipped slight under, the water rising to just another inch or two.

He slid to the side as he shut the door close, running his one hand over his forehead before lifting the hood over his head. Adrian slid the hood lower to rest against his brows, which helped to clear his vision as the droplets dampened the cloth instead. He grabbed onto draw cords and pulled them in tighter, the crevice exposing his under shirt and been now shortened.

Adrian walked over to the front of his truck, eyed the hood before angling his two fingers under the clasp and lifting the hood up. He used the spring to level it up, wavering his eyes over the engine. He check the transmission, filters and gave a quick once-over at the sensor.

Adrian pulled back, walking back to the front seat to pull on the car door, reaching over his dashboard to grab the flashlight that had rested there. He went back to the hood of his car, lighting the flash towards the spark plugs.

 _Nothing here_.

He lifted the spring from the clasp, placing his both flat hands on the rim as he nudged it shut. He elbowed onto the hood just for reassurance before he shone the flashlight on his front tires.

He bent down, shoving the flashlight in between the crevice of the car and tire.

Adrian’s eyes glossed over the crown. The clip was still clasped on. The intake pipe was intact which _thank fuck_. If it had been, he’d be in hydrolock and he wasn’t sure how many more beatings his rather inept truck could take. Wishful thinking would have been around 8 but his pragmatism kicked in as he glanced up.

_Two. Tops._

The rain started to dampen not only ever piece of cloth he had worn but then some more. His skin was prickled in verbatim by the continuous flow of droplets. He had to drag his feet when the current dragged him in the other direction.

He lifted his leg, trudging one leg over the other, digging his feet in the soles of his slipper for leverage as he walked forward.

He bent down to grasp the dishelved ‘stop’ sign, using his elbow to clear off the slandered bark chips at the ends. He doesn’t attempt to try to put it back on it’s base but he clasped his belt in an effort to see if that would be a decent adhesive.

He had to blink repeatedly as the water slammed against his face despite the hood. He decided to lower his head, flex his neck in a manner in which the first contact would be against the crease of his neck rather than the flesh of his face.

He doesn't know what the actual fuck he's doing but he's disconcerted by the fact that there was a stop sign and then there wasn't. It was an accident waiting to happen. Plus, he couldn't have been the only one driving through this clusterfuck. Stupidity always existed in the masses. 

 

So he continued to wrap the belt, the leather curling and folding on itself. He rested his flat hand to level the two pieces as he tugged back with his other hand, the two seemingly appeared to  press together. 

 

He removed his hand from behind the wooden bark, swiping his palm across his forehead, mushing the stagnant droplets etched into his skin. 

 

Adrian gripped the flashlight in between his teeth, biting down as he wrapped both his hands to grip onto the buckle as he gave a worthy squeeze. He settled one hand at where the belt had been, pulled the other hand back slowly and watched as the two become one.

 

Slowly, he retracted his other hand.

 

The sign had stayed in it’s position and despite the pouring rain, it had continued to.

 

As he started to back away, he whipped around when the roaring sound cut through the pouring rain. He noticed the blue and red blind his vision. Adrian removed the flashlight from his mouth, flicking off the light and shoving it into the pocket of his shorts.

 

He found himself glued to his spot as the cop car pulled behind his truck.

 

He wasn’t sure what to expect but it doesn’t mean he’s any less surprised when he watched as Sanchez step out of the car. He had a poncho on, transparent and had an apparent department logo on the shoulders. He wore a hood as well but it seemed to do a better job on him as Adrian watched as Sanchez walked effortlessly in his direction.

 

As he got closer, he at first placed his hand above his brows, crunched his eyes as to focus on him but then broke into a chuckle that did not fall on deaf ears.

 

“You didn’t get the memo?”

 

Adrian frowned.

 

Sanchez pointed with his index finger, upwards. He dropped his hand to his side as he angled his head to look over Adrian. He doesn’t say anything as he walked past Adrian.

 

He took a fastidious glance before asking, “Did you do this?”

 

Adrian peered at what he was pointing to, glancing back up to look at him.

 

“What-“ his voice is strained as he replied, “-what? No. _No_.”

 

“You sure? It _is_ pouring.”

 

“I am aware of that.”

“Maybe you weren’t aw-“

 

“No.” Adrian interrupted, “I didn’t do that.” His voice is clipped, resolute. He hoped the finite of it is conveyed through his voice and he decides it is when Sanchez nods, whisking his lips in an effort to conceded.

 

Or, Adrian hopes he does.

 

“Is something wrong with your truck?” He raised his voice as the pouring exacerbated. The droplets smashing into the pavement was deafening and Adrian had to hone in on Sanchez’s voice to even comprehend what he had said.

 

“What!” He tapped at his ear, shook his head to indicate that he had a hard time hearing what he had said.

 

Sanchez took strides in his direction, is a shoulder length apart before he screamed once more.

 

“Truck!” He pointed behind Adrian, “What’s wrong with it!”

 

“It’s my tires.” Adrian bellowed back, “They’re locked!”

 

He thinks he had to repeat when Sanchez bends over. He pressed his fingers on the rubber, running his hand around the crown before shaking his head.

 

“They’re locked!”

 

“That’s what I said!”

 

“What!”

 

Adrian leaned down beside him as he repeated, “I said that already!”

 

Sanchez whisked his lips into an ‘O’ shape, nodded as he lifted himself up. He gripped onto his radio as he mumbled, “459. On the corner of Hoffstaff and Maples. There’s also a road sign torn up from the roots.”

 

He let go of the clip.

 

It’s silence before the radio fizzled out and a clear voice cut through.

 

“Copy that Detective Sanchez.”

 

“4AUU579.”

 

Adrian recognized his license plate number. He had his eyes glued to the flaring lights but it started to become apparent that he would not be stranded no more. Though, he’d rather sit and wait this one out.

 

“Roger that.”

Sanchez pulled away, raising his head and swaying his hand towards the blaring light.

 

“Come on!”

 

Adrian doesn’t even believe he had a choice to refute the offer. If he had, he’d be worse than a deer in headlights.

 

“Adrian!”

 

Adrian snapped his head up, crossed his hands across his chest instinctively before following Sanchez in his direction. He almost falls short when he collided into Sanchez, flinching back quickly and lets out an immediate apology.

 

“Put your keys in the glove! They’ll tow your car to the depo, you can-“ he cut himself off midway as the thunderstorm roared, sending them both to have to cringe. Sanchez forehead creased inwards as he dragged his hood further down, “-pick it up there!”

 

He wants to ask how _much_ but he’s quick to shut his mouth as that would send out the wrong idea. That he would worry about the cost rather than the logistics of this impetuous weather. He’d rather stick this one out. He could rev up the engine, have his flare lights on and he was sure, based on previous storms, this would have lasted another hour. If even that.

 

But.

 

He’s not so sure he even has a choice.

 

Adrian dragged his feet in the opposite direction, ran back to his truck, flipped open his glove box and tossed his keys inside. He shut it close, as well as the door before gliding toward the passenger seat.

 

The warmth is overwhelming as it crashed into his icy skin. He shivered as he wrapped his hands tighter around his chest, drawing in deep breaths as he leaned towards the vent. The warmth evaporates any prickle and it does nothing but satiate the droplets of water that had stagnated on his flesh.

 

“Wow.” Sanchez smiled through his shivers, rubbing both his palms together then arching his back to pull the seatbelt strand.

 

Adrian tilted his head.

 

The cop car is much more practical and better at dulling the frosty rain. In there, they sounded like soft padding against a pillow. That, or the mere fact that he has a hard time hearing anything but the rummaging rain had interfered with his ability to hear anything else and the warmth is doing nothing but distract him from the current situation.

 

“How long you’ve been out?”

 

He untightened the strings, letting out a shallow exhale as that had given him the opportunity to coalesce more room. Everything he had worn was damp to the point where it had started to stick to his flesh in a manner that was more than worrisome. He started to feel the wetness in areas that made him have a hard time settling into the seat.

 

“Just for a couple of minutes,” he stammered, “didn’t see the clog.”

 

“Sewer’s backed up?” Sanchez asked, most likely rhetorical as he watched from his periphery as the tail lights rose to a blinding form.

 

He goes back to dispatch another message.

 

Adrian settled his right against the sill, shifting his weight to the side he had rested his hand. He dropped his forehead against the length of his hand, rubbing his flesh against the damp cloth in an effort to dull the throbbing that settled.

 

“You okay?”

 

He waved his hand, retracts it immediately as he realized the confines of the car he had been currently sitting in. He’s quick to sit back up, lowering back into his seat before colliding with the leather. He let out an exhale, silently under his breath as he rubbed his hands on his shorts.

 

“Fine.” He began, “Sorry.” He offered, because _shit_.

 

He was in no way even inadvertently trying to _not_ be mindful.

 

Or a crude.

 

“Why?” Sanchez’s laugh swallowed the entire atmosphere. It made Adrian feel claustrophobic, more than he had already felt. There was an arm rest between them but suddenly, it felt as if they had been sitting back to back.

 

Adrian shrugged, hoping that was enough.

 

“You sure you’re fine?”

 

“Cold.” He offered. “Really cold.”

 

The only reply he gets back is a low ‘uh huh’ before the car is pulled out from beside the sidewalk and back onto the street. The lights were still flaring, and they ended up being the only source of light in the now power-outage streets. The colors meshed into a purple that illuminated even the nascent detail. He would notice a skate board on the drive way that his eyes would have usually deceived him in the shadows. He noticed puddles, a foot deep without even having to take a second glance.

 

There was first a left turn. He counted the seconds and was aware of the next turn that is being made. If they were on this road for another 3 blocks, he’d sure be standing right outside his store. If they’d take a turn 6 blocks down, he’d be back at his place.

 

He watched as the familiar shaft passed by. He counted every single time he’d seen a sand gravel run it’s course. When the car comes to a halt, he doesn’t have to even glance up to know where they are.

But he doesn’t move.

 

His body is glued to the seat.

 

“This is your shop, am I correct?”

 

Adrian sagged his shoulders, pulling the sleeves of his jacket further down and over his fingers. Despite it being wet, he suddenly felt suffocated by any sense of warmth.

 

“Think you already know.” He murmured, briskly. He swiped his sleeve across his mouth.

 

There was no immediate response.

 

Sanchez rested one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the arm rest. He’d parsed his lips as he stared out the windowshield, not an ounce of any resolute creeping into his face. The stoicness swallows any emotion he was capable of.

 

“Yes.”

 

A pause.

 

“You are a prisoner in a room with 2 doors and 2 guards. One of the doors will guide you to freedom and behind the other is a hangman --you don't know which is which. One of the guards always tells the truth and the other always lies. You don't know which one is the truth-teller or the liar either. You have to choose and open one of these doors, but you can only ask a single question to one of the guards. What do you ask so you can pick the door to freedom?”

The riddle seemed superfluous.

“What.”

Sanchez turned to his side to face Adrian.

“You are a-“

“No-I- heard-I-“ Adrian frowned, “ _Why_?”

“Just entertain the idea, will you?”

Did he have a choice?

“I wouldn’t ask anything.”

“Come on.” Sanchez chuckled, “Pick the rational one.”

“No-“ Adrian refused quietly, “Those are just binary choices.”

 “ _Not_ necessarily.” He was quick to reply with. There’s nothing to discern from the tone of his voice other than objectivity.

He doesn’t feel up to the riddle.

 

Adrian was incandescently irritated by the fact that there was despondency in a manner that was not suited for anyone.

 

“You _said_ she was missing.” He hissed, but even then, it was more under his breath than one that could ricochet off of the confines of the car.

 

“Yes-“

 

“Thanks for the ride.” He was abrupt. He clasped the knob but stopped midway when the notch gets locked. He goes to unclasp the notch when cool fingers grip his shoulder. There wasn’t any force and it’s as subtle as they could come. Adrian wouldn’t have known for it not for the fact that the fingers had settled just beside a crevice of open skin.

 

“We were trying to do _our_ job.” Was the response he got.

 

He would have settled for it. Any less of it as well if it meant that he could just go. But Sanchez’s fingers were still gripping his shoulder and notch was still locked. Adrian pressed his fingers onto the glass, tapped in verbatim as the water slid off the glass.

 

“It’s a small town and if word got around-which it would _have_ -it would spook people who we cannot afford to spook.” It was unsettling the levity and veracity of that statement. He doesn’t expect to be given any other information but he was perturbed by the mere fact that he was being told a lie for a reason.

 

Maybe he’d been a suspect. And as perverse as that notion was, his anger was dulled by his pragmatic fortitude.

 

He wasn’t angry about the rhetoric, he was angry that Cat was dead.

 

And there was nothing he could do about it.

 

Nothing.

 

No one could bring her back.

 

And the circumstances surrounding it all only meant that whatever was entailed with finding the perpetrator will be glossed over by the fact that she had been apart of the Cody family. Which only meant that people will talk and eventually they will all be distracted. It won’t just be about her death. It would be about much more.

 

Deflection would become their ammunition.

 

And Cat would still be dead.

 

Questions would be left unanswered.

 

Because-

 

That _always_ happened.

 

“If I asked _you_ if the left door led to freedom, what would you say?”

 

The hand is slowly retracted from his shoulder. The sound of the leather squeaking as Sanchez had shifted around, the way in which the engine sound dulled to mesh in with the pouring rain, the flashing lights dimmed and eventually shut-

 

The notch made a rapid ‘click’ sound as  it lifted up. Adrian glanced down, rubbing behind his neck as it dawned upon him that it was the only response he would get from Sanchez.

 

He doesn’t say anything as he steps back into slamming rainfall. He drudged his feet to the front door, slipped his hands into his shorts and let out a low ‘ _fuck_ ’ when he’d realized that he remembered he had his keys in a chain with his _truck keys_.

 

The throb in his forehead was exacerbated by the humming of the tires as they had swiveled from behind him, the tailpipes roaring but the sound dulled by the distance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UUUUUUUUUUUH. Talk to me later?

He found himself walking on the familiar gravel. The stones are rubbing against the soles of his slippers, protruding from underneath and pressing into his flesh. It doesn’t bother him as much as it kept him concentrated on where he was and maybe even, what was to come.

He slowed his pace as he stopped on the sidewalk, gazing up to glare at the familiar gates. Even as the rain poured, the droplets slid down the metal, giving a certain gloss in the darkness that seemed too coincidental. He wasn’t aware of that hues of black existed but he’s mesmerized regardless.

As he was about to pull his phone out, the screeching sound emanated as the wield hinges grazed the cement, the sound piercing through the wet air. Adrian flinched slightly as the nail-clawing sound dissipated, coming to a halt.

He shifted his gaze to the garage door that was wide open. Dark inside.

Despite feeling the urgency to find reprieve from being inundated by the rain, his feet are glued to the gravel.

But he doesn’t have to wait to find the nerve to take another step, when he soon heard the roaring voice slice through the thick air.

“What games are you playing?” Pope seethed, striding in his direction. Adrian felt the eyes piercing into his flesh and has to swallow the lump that accrued in his throat. The daggers seemed to penetrate every visible part of his body and it only worsens when Pope leveled his posture.

Deran was following right behind him, a little further to the back. He has a hood shielding most of his face and it was hard to discern the look he wore.

Craig was walking beside J; they too kept a decent distance away from Pope.  

J shielded his eyes as Adrian shifted his gaze to look at him. It was almost as if he was apologetic but even he was cautious as to whether he should be.

As if Adrian had given him a reason not to be.

“What.” Adrian swallowed. His breathing picked up, his ribs being pressed into his abdomen by the sheer of how hard he was breathing.

Adrian eyes gravitated towards Deran, and they stayed there. Deran wasn’t looking at him. He had his eyes glued to the floor. His shoulders were sagging and he wore a weary look that does nothing but exacerbate the pit brewing in Adrian’s stomach.

“I saw you, with that detective, in his _car_ -“

He sensed the direction of the conversation. He stepped forward, slapping the soles of his feet against the flooded pavement.

“Then you should have also seen my truck br-“

Pope snarled, cutting through.

“ _Right._ You couldn’t have just waited-“

Adrian cut right back.

“Are you following _me_?” Adrian  barked.

Pope snorted, eyebrows raised as he chortled, “Are you _stupid_?” He seethed, “You have to be _stupid_.” Pope jabbed at his temple, “Is anything working up there?” He’s condescending as he barked, “Huh? Hellooo?”

Adrian drifted his gaze until it fell upon Deran.

Who, just as he had been for the mere time, silent.

The water started to blind Adrian’s vision. He continued to blink but it does nothing to dissipate the flurry. He continued to blink until he had to bite down on his tongue, the putrid realization dawning upon him in a manner that made his skin prickle. He shivered as he drifted his eyes away to look at Craig.

Nothing.

Shielded gazes.

“Pope, I di-“

“You think _we’re_ stupid?” It’s rhetorical, “Huh? What _games_ are you playing at?” His lips parsed out as he questioned, curiosity seeped and immersified in every word he spewed, as if there was validity to his assumption.

Adrian bit down a little bit harder. He tasted the curdle of blood that rushed through his mouth, tiny amounts that seemed to inundate every corner. He swallowed down the taste, for it to only settle permanently on his gums. He swiped his tongue once over but is left dismayed as his buds absorbed the metallic coagulate.

Adrian kept glaring in his direction, waiting for Deran to pick up his head. His skin started to prickle when it became overtly apparent that he’d be waiting for a long time.

Something inside of him churned. Ached. It ceased to desist. He wanted to look away but his eyes burned as he couldn’t shift his gaze.

Maybe Deran didn’t have to say anything but he was saying _everything_ with his posture.

His silence.

Adrian felt like the ground was slipping, his feet retreating as he found his pace to lift his legs up. He was about to walk only to stagnate as someone gripped his shoulders, their fingers piercing into his flesh that was only dulled by the fabric of his sweatshirt.

He’s spun around with such haste that he’s surprised he doesn’t fall forward.

Pope tilted his head, “I’m talking to _you_.”

Adrian doesn’t hesitate as he goes to turn around, shaking off the grip only to be spun around just as immediately. Pope used his free hand to shove him further towards the gate, only to be encircled by the three that hadn’t said a word.

His feet find some balance, yet he still lurched slightly forward, pressing his flattened hand against the ground to center his gravity. He stayed bent, knees arched, back lowered, head down, breathing rapidly as he tried to catch his breath.

His hood fell lower over his brows, seams protruding from under. He tugged the hood back with his free hand as he lifted himself up, wiping both hands against his wet pants. The grains percolated into the sole of his palm, reminiscent of the texture of sand paper that he would grain to remove any grout stain. Even as he continued to rub his hands on his pants, the grains seemed to always find a way to etch back into his flesh. The rain doesn’t help.

“I’m talking to _you_.” The voice is much closer than he had anticipated. He knew that if he had just turned around, he was sure that there would be a face a mere inch away. So he doesn’t. But he felt the urge to. The urge to just let Pope know that there was nothing for him to say. There was nothing he had done wrong. There was nothing to be said.

He pressed his hand against his temple when the throbbing robbed him of the air in his throat, the pounding leaving him breathless. He doesn’t know how it rendered him panting. And he can’t stop it as it continued.

“I told you,” his voice is void of anything as he started, “I didn’t say anything.” He’s shutting his eyes as he finished because _shit_. He didn’t do anything. He hadn’t said anything, “I didn’t do anything, man. I didn’t-“ he exhaled, “I didn’t do _anything_. Nothing.” He inhaled, “Nothing. I didn’t say anything. He was giving me a ride, that’s it.” The words fell out, erratically. His speech garrulous as he continued.

He knew that there was some sort of wretched sob ready to escape his lips, so he swiped his hand against his mouth as he stopped. He stopped blinking, the droplets that poured out meshed in with those that splattered against his flesh and pummeled on the ground.

He ran his hand, despite the fact that there was no way to make a distinction with the tears and the pouring ran. But he had to. Because they couldn’t know. They couldn’t see.

“I didn’t do anything.” He repeated, voice cracking as he turned.

Pope wasn’t as close as he had imagined. Instead he stilled as Pope had his back towards him, hands on his hips, fists clenched, neck angled.

Baz had appeared from the depth of the dark. He took large strides until he faced Pope, frowning as he looked around. Once his gaze fell upon Adrian, he softened the crease etched into his forehead but he’s quick as he hurled out, “What the _fuck_ are you doing?” It’s directed at Pope.

Pope doesn’t pause as he flicked around.

He growled as he responded, “I know you’re not talking to me.”

Baz gritted back. He slammed his fist against his thigh as he turned to face Craig. He doesn’t say anything as he brisked his head back, pointing back towards the gate. Craig caught his gaze and does take a look back but he doesn’t make an effort to move.

Baz clenched his teeth as he pointed at J, jabbed at the house behind them, waving his hand in that direction. J understood. He’s just as stagnant as his feet are glued to the pavement but he relented as he stalked backwards.

He doesn’t make it far before he stopped. He sagged his shoulders as he caught Baz’s eyes but ignored the glare as he walked in Adrian’s direction.

J’s face softened as their eyes met each other. He wore a weak frown as he angled his head away to slant it more towards Adrian.

Adrian can’t stomach the thought of having to wean into a feign look. He doesn’t know if J is capable of it but he doesn’t care. He shook his head haphazardly, slowing down as J stilled in his posture. He stopped in his tracks, frown deepening as they once again made eye contact.

“Adr-“

His voice is silenced as Baz roared, “We’re all going to fucking go inside, _now_.”

They all don’t move.

The tension is palpable and it suffocated Adrian has he watched Baz repeat himself.

“ _Now_.”

Pope snarked as he leveled his height with Baz, closing in the distance until they are touching the brinks of their noses against each other. Baz is, at first, postured to be prepared but even he has to arch his back as he spread his feet a little further apart. His jaw is clenched as he extended his head forward, almost to say ‘ _what_ ’.

Baz was not surprised when Pope reciprocated the act. Adrian could tell by the way in which he arched his back, rigid in posture when Pope protruded his head forward. Except Pope doesn’t make a distinction of personal space as he jabbed his forehead against Baz’s in an almost offhandish way.

Like deers, mauling with their antlers.

Baz doesn’t hesitate as he jabbed back.

They continued to glare at each other, hissed words falling to deaf ears as Adrian glanced over, regrettably as they fell upon Deran. He doesn’t stomach the thought of wanting to do so but his body betrays him as his eyes waver over him. Adrian dug his fingers into the sole of palms as he his eyes wavered, hoping it would somehow deflect the lack of control but instead, he stilled as he rested his eyes upon Deran.

A quiet wail escapes his mouth, his lips whimpering immediately. He wiped his elbow just as fast across his face, kept it against his face so he hoped they wouldn’t have to hear the shrill. When they don’t, he dropped his hand to his side before gritting his mouth shut. He goes back to bite down on his tongue and this time, the blood that tears through does nothing but cease the throbbing in his head.

He swallowed the lump that constricted his airways, the nonexistent wedge slicing through his skin as if it had existed. It became easier to take another breathe but fictitious lump had progressively enlarged to a tangible brick.

He closed his eyes momentarily, concentrating on the droplets as the washed upon his clothes. His face. His flesh. It softened the thorns that pervaded every crevice of his flesh. The patter of the rain as it hit the ground, which was rising in levels just above his ankle, was swallowed by the sheer volume of it. He doesn’t hear the sound of the pavement meeting the pouring rain. Instead, it’s softened in impact.

It does something to invoke a sense of reprieve. But it’s brief.

He ripped his eyes open when he heard the loud clatter of someone’s shoes crashing into the puddle.

Pope took large strides as he disappeared beyond the gate. Adrian doesn’t shift his gaze. He waited until he was sure. He was sure that those familiar contortions don’t reappear. He held his breath for a second-then another second-then another-

Until nothing reappeared from where he had last seen the stature of Pope.

Adrian rested his hands on his knees as a hazy blur washes up and over him. He concentrated as he kept his posture, his feet subconsciously slipping into the puddles. His sense of gravity started to weaken and maybe even dissipate but he concentrates hard on the metallic taste in his mouth, the shallow breathing from within, the swallowing pit in his stomach as he dug his toes into sole of his slippers.

He almost flinched when Baz rested his palm on his shoulder. Almost.

But he doesn’t have to shrug it off as Baz slips his hand slowly away, not before giving a quick squeeze.

“Go home.” He said. “Okay? Go _home_.”

Adrian goes to remember how he had found himself in front of this gate in the first place. Maybe it had been because he couldn’t enter his but if he was being honest, his back window wasn’t that secured. He could have used the wood hoove to drift up the loosen seals in the frame of his window. He could have. Yet he found himself _here_.

Because it had made sense.

For whatever reason.

“Adrian,” Baz whispered, lifting his hand before gripping Adrian’s back, nudging him forward. He doesn’t try it again when Adrian doesn’t respond.

“Hey,” his voice is much lower, to the point where Adrian nodded in response.

Baz squeezed his arm, “Go _home_.”

This time, Adrian doesn’t have to be told twice.

He was even thankful that Baz doesn’t offer him the choice to go _inside_. He’s thankful for that instance that someone had made the choice for him, not far from what he wanted to do. He wanted to leave. Just _leave_.

Adrian glued his eyes to the soles of his slippers as he strode across the street, not even thinking momentarily about the piercing glare. If he had even turned to look, it would have rendered him immobile.

He was sure of it.

And even if he wasn’t.

He didn’t want to know otherwise.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: okaywhateverokayyes
> 
> SO, yeah. Last Phase!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Misery LOVES company. I repeat, misery LOVES company

"You're staring at me." 

 

Ed shifted his gaze, intrepidly, lowering his head to feign interest in whatever he thought he was holding and genuine interest soon followed.

 

"Nah." 

 

"Ed." 

 

"No way, A man." 

 

"You called me A man." 

 

"Yeah?" He quivered as he finished, "yeah." This time, more resolute. 

 

"Ed." 

 

"A-" 

 

"Cut the bullshit, Eduardo." The word sounded foreign, flicking his tongue against the confines of his closed mouth. "Just spit it, alright?"

 

Ed only lifted the holster up to level with his eyes, shielding any contact. 

 

He was hesitant as he strained to let the words fall out. Ed rubbed at his eyes as he drifted his elbows onto the slab. He raked his hands together, pursing his lips in a manner that was incompatible with his usual demeanor.

 

Adrian ripped off the goggles from over his eyes, resting them on his forehead as he swiped a towel at the corners of his eyes. There's a disconcerting aura that swallows the entire room, and it does nothing to dissuade the shallow pit that had been invoked in his stomach. 

 

"What is it, Ed?" This time, he lowered his voice, hoping to come off apologetic as he hadn't mean for him to sound prudish. He hadn't mean to say it in the tone he had. 

 

He just hadn't had enough sleep to combat anything. His eyes are drooping and his muscles were aching. He felt the languid ache spread all the way to his ankles and he had a hard time even removing himself from his bed. 

 

He'd never felt so exhausted.

 

And yet-he'd never succumb to it. The moment he'd given in, it would have been the moment he'd had to start over.

 

And he couldn't afford that. 

 

"You look terrible man?" Ed crawled out, frowning, "totalamente mal." He whisked his lips in concern, "just look at you dude?"

 

He hadn't looked at himself in the mirror at all. He'd brushed his teeth in the hallway and then spat in his kitchen sink because he didn't need glass to be aware of what Ed had been mentioning. He hadn't needed a reflection to recognize that the bags under his eyes were sagging to the point where it seemed as if they carried the entire weight of his disdain.

 

He didn't need to look at a mirror to recognize that the prickles of hair protruding from his jaw to his cheeks was unbecoming of him. He had felt the thorns as they creeped out and he felt them as they rose undoubtedly, masking his face in ways that was unrelenting. 

 

Adrian shoved the towel back into the helm of his jeans, nodding to indicate that he had understood. 

 

"What's going on?" Ed bellowed , "you in some kind of trouble?" 

 

Adrian chuckled raspily. He threw the goggles from off his head and onto the slab in between them. 

 

Tired. Fucking understatement. Exhausted. Over simplification. Void of any sense of locomotion wrapped in a soul-deriving motor seemed more apt. 

 

"No, man." Adrian relented, sighing as he slid into the stool. He kicked his feet over the leg of the chair. 

 

"Mentira!" Ed scowled, rolling his eyes , "you're lying dude! You're lying to me, man. You know that I'm really good at seeing that shit, right? Like, yo detecto una mierda siempre.  _Siempre."_

 

"Dude," Adrian rubbed at the crease of his neck, pressing his fingers deep into his flesh, circling his thumb near his shoulder blade, "I-" can't understand what you're saying, "I'm re-" remembering that word. Mentira. Lies. "I'm OK, Ed."  _I feel like jabbing a screw into my pupils but other than that-fine._

 

Ed pushed back, jumping from off of the ledge, throwing his hands hair in frustration. He had started to curse lowly under his breath, but doesn't nothing to vocalize it in Adrian's direction. 

 

Adrian rubbed at his temples. He had taken an Advil last night. One when he had woken up. Another an hour later. Might have taken another two more when he had woken up before he switch ed to ibuprofen. 

 

The grogginess seeped into the creases of his eyes. He felt the weight drag his resolve, sighing into the air as a way to placate the tension. He went to rub at his eyes but grimaced when the jolt of pain reverberated throughout his face. 

 

He sat up, removing his legs from the sill, pulling his knees closer as he rested his elbows on his thighs. He shoved his face into his palms, gently dabbing his fingers against his forehead as he drew his breath. 

 

"Here." 

 

Adrian removed his index finger from his one eye, focusing in on the ice pack pressed into his hand. At first, it was a harsh sensation having to have that cold replace the overwhelming warmth. But soon, the cold became dulled before forming into thorns in to his flesh. 

 

"Put it against your head." Ed doesn't wait as he pressed the pack against his forehead, "there." 

 

Adrian shifted his hand to hold onto the pack, swiping it across the forehead in an effort to dissipate the throbbing. It does bring him a brief respite. 

 

"I heard about something," Ed drifted his hand into this pocket. He rummaged through, pursuing his lips in annoyance when he has to shove his hand further down. He swiveled his hand for a while before he shoved his hand into his other pocket. 

 

He was quick to pull out a crumpled paper. He spread the creases out with his fingers before shoving it in Adrian's face.

 

_Vans US Open._

 

"You missed out on WSA. I know you did about 2 but like seis es necessario para calificar para la eventa. Four more and we would have been fine, dude." Ed rested it in his lap, "you lead this, you'll qualify for the Rip Curl for next season. You try to get to ninth place and you'll get a solid 12 grand man but knowing you-your fucking  _skills_ -" he whistled , "I'd say 5th min and 2nd tops-also if you'd work on fine-tuning..." 

 

He doesn't continue.

 

"I don't know," Adrian was hesitant as he replied, "I have to work on a lot more." Which was the most valid thing he had spewed, void of any salaciousness, "plus, I've been out of it for a while." 

 

Ed nodded continuously , "exactly! You've got over two months. I'd take an extra couple of shifts. My uncle would do it for free man, cause you know- retirement can be boring- and then you'd get another 40 hours man a week in the waters!" As if he had thought about this, over and over, and over again. The certainty of his words seemed plausible but he wasn't sure how plausible. 

 

He sounds too excited for Adrian to absorb. 

 

"Ed-" 

 

"You're really good at it man. Really fucking good."  Ed sighed, "don't man. Just go and do it. Do it and you know, try to get back to being  _you._ " 

 

Adrian looked up. 

 

He met Ed's gaze half way before throwing on a quick smile. 

 

Because who he was and what he would become- it was all meshed by inconsistency and marred by anything out of his control. 

 

Who was he? 

 

What did it matter? 

 

"Would you consider it?" Ed lamented, "like sleep on it-" only to lower his voice as he murmured , "if you can sleep at all." 

 

Adrian weakly chuckled. His voice is strained as he had to wean the persisting ache with incessant coughs. He brought his elbow to cough into, retracting his hand before looking up at Ed.

 

"Thanks." He meagerly offered. 

 

Ed waved his hand haphazardly in the air, rolling his eyes as he leaned over to grab the goggles. He wrapped his fingers around the strap and tugged on the seal with his index finger before he clutched it with his hand.

 

"Think about it, A-man," Ed repeated, "and try to do it soon because you got like," he feigned glancing over at his wrist that had no watch, "T-2 months," he whistled, "so like, get it together man.." he drawled out, but it's void of any disdain.

 

Adrian smiled.

 

It hurt to smile but he hadn't felt as if he was offering it because he wanted to assuage Ed but it arose from genuine content. 

 

Although it brief-

 

Genuine.

 

"I think I'm gonna-" his eyes dropped as he began, "-hit the sack." He continued as he grabbed onto the rim of the slab, "so If you could just..."  _finish?_

 

Adrian's eyes wavered over the unfinished stacked colloid bundles. 

 

"Man, I got this," Ed chortled as he replied, "necessito ayudar? Tu tienes un amigo excellente!" He waved the goggles in the air as he broke out into a sheepish chuckle.

 

Adrian responded with a low chuckle.

 

He has his feet planted on the ground, hands curled into the table as he lifted himself off of the stool. He gripped onto the slab as he took his next couple of steps. 

 

"Gracias." Adrian supplied, only to watch as a toothish grin washed over Ed's face. 

 

"Yeah! There you go!" Ed is impressed, despite the simplicity of his dialect. Adrian has to stifle a groan in response to his overt enthusiasm but he returned another thank you in return.

 

Adrian found his plane of gravity before he turned around the corner. 

 

He was languid as he took more steps. His feet ached and his muscles stretched in a manner that did nothing but exacerbate the straining sores he had felt. He had to stifle a groan as he felt his ankle give out as he collided with the brim of the staircase, drawing his head down to catch his breath.

 

He almost laughed at how ridiculous he was being. That he had found it difficult to take a mere 50 steps and was horrified at the thought of having to walk a little while longer.

 

He knew there would be a mattress waiting for him but the drooping anguish that washed over him that moment does nothing but weigh on top of his strained shoulders. He let out a huff that struggled to escape his lips.

 

He knelt over, pressing his flattened hands on the wooden step. He retracted his hands as soon as he arched his back, jabbing his palm against his face to induce some sensation back. 

 

His skin crawled as he kneaded his hands together, his spine tingling as a cool sensation settled on his flesh. 

 

He doesn't make it to the bed but he settled his head against the well, eyes shut closed, relinquishing whatever effort he had been holding within and giving in.

 

When he woke up, Adrian clutched the back of his neck as he lifted his head up. He arched his back to relieve the strain that permeated in his lower back. He rubbed at his eye with his free hand, yawning into his elbow before he withdrew his hand.

It doesn’t take him more than a second for him to realize that he’s not alone.

He heard shuffling that only exacerbated in the silence. His ears perked as he fluttered his eyes open, turning to glare at the source of the noise.

The sight before stifled him quiet.

Deran.

Adrian is slow at first as he placated his hand firmly against the handrail, gripping onto the rawl until his skin prickled. It doesn’t take much effort as he shifted one foot out in front of each other, before he’s standing.

The atmosphere was oddly palpable but palpable with what? He couldn’t discern.

“I screwed up,” Deran forced the words out through bared teeth, throat so tight he could barely breathe. His words end up cluttering, each marring together as if they had not been said coherently whatsoever.

Adrian eyes flicked to the back door. It was still shut as it had been for the past couple of minutes. He’d gaze out the transparent window to notice that there had been no one behind it.

He didn’t care. He shouldn’t care. He hadn’t cared. And yet, he stood there, hands to his sides, face rigid as he possibly could muster, clenching his teeth until his jaw ached. He had to swallow everything and anything he had wanted to say.

Because he’d learn one thing over the years.

You’d listen inspite of anything.

There would be no cards to play if he stacked them all at once.

A game.

A game that he’d had to learn- _forced_ to learn.

Yet he’s met with static and absolute silence. It was deafening to the point that Adrian had to unclench his teeth as he responded, “Ok.” And nothing more because that was befitting of what he had been offered. Supplied with an ambiguous clarification did nothing but alleviate his disdain.

He refrained from saying anything more, digging his nails into the palms of his hand, until his knuckles cracked and his skin incinerated.

Yet again, he was met with silence.

This time, he does nothing to fill it.

They continued to stare at each other but if he was being honest, it was if he had been looking past Deran and seeing someone entirely different. As if a façade of someone he had expected appeared and manifested in a manner that did nothing but add on to his discomfort.

Because despite seeing past Deran, he had seen another version of Deran. One who was just as stubborn and obstinate and yet an altered perception of the same person. And it mattered-it mattered because he doesn’t _understand_ the man in front of him nor is he capable of understanding the man _behind_ him. As if the clarity he had retained, had been lost forever. As if the rationalizations he had made for the man behind him, was marred into thin air.

The man who stood before him and all he entailed surmounted to a huge _nothing_.

He had never known who Deran was.

As he flickered his eyes to the wall behind him, Adrian soon realized that he most probably never would.

His lips wobbled as he concentrated earnestly on the brim of light seeping through the window film. He trailed his eyes to where the light had been absorbed by the surface mesh. The rubber mesh is perforated with tiny holes and Adrian has to glare back up at the brim to make sure that the source of light had even emanated from somewhere.

“I screwed up.” This time, his voice is strained. It sounded worn out and pinched, the edginess seeping into every word. Adrian’s fingers tingled with desperation, wanting to reach out but he grimaced as he tangled his fingers into the sideseams of his pants.

It takes an added effort to have self-restraint but he soon finds it when he’s reminded of what his source of dismay had emanated from.

“Ok.”

“I screwed up.”

“ _OK_.”

Deran doesn’t miss a beat.

“I _screwed_ up.”

Adrian fluttered his eyes shut, huffing a labored exhale. _Fuck_.

“ _OK_.” He repeated as he clenched his fist, “ _OK.”_ And unclenched his fist, only to curl his fingers until his knuckles cracked.

Adrian needed him to say anything else because if he continued to repeat the same, he was incapable of not faltering to them. He had the inclination to listen and even if they were void of any malice or benevolence, his greatest fallacy would be that somehow, he could muster another benefit of the doubt.

He had none.

He could never pinpoint where they would arise from.

Maybe it was despondency or maybe it was because he had a hard time not giving them.

When he did, it always shredded a small part of who he was.

Adrian used to be uncomfortable by a lot of things. There was always uncertainty to whatever everyone else deemed to be _certain_. That what was presented to be sanguine had to be sullied by whatever wasn’t at the surface. Nothing could ever be that finite. He never trusted anyone who didn’t have a secret to hold, a lie to tell, a flaw to conceal.

At the moment, his complacency had become inadequate. His spine tingled by this overwhelming sensation of the infinity of the possibilities. As he stared at Deran, he was certain of _his_ uncertainty. Deran was a vessel that stored more secrets than the next dark horse. Secretive to the point where despite the decade he had known him- _thought­ that he had known him_ \- nothing was for sure. Nothing was ever concrete. Nothing was black and white. Nothing was _certain_.

He found solace in that before. Nothing about Deran Cody was predictable and for reasons that went beyond him, he was assuaged by the unpredictability. He thought it was adventurous and now he was sure that senile was an apt term.

But it said something about him that he had found solace in the uncertainty.

That what he l-

Adrian introverted predisposition was forcefully taken away from him. His reluctance to not stay meek had contributed to the situation that he had found himself in. Twenty-three and he has a hard time _not_ being unassertive.

Withdrawn from reality to the point that he wonders if everything around him is actually tangible or a façade. Maybe it was both-

Maybe it was him struggling in an eternal limbo.

 _She’ol_. His mother had said that once to him; they had been talking a walk. Just an ordinary walk that somehow ended up with them talking about righteousness. He was 13 and looking back at it, maybe that was foreshadowing something.

That was the year he had moved to Oceanside.

That was the year that he’d met _him_.

He pondered what his original sin was that he had not repented for that stuck him in such an eternal damnation. But _She’ol_ disregarded his past misgivings. Maybe fate was as elusive as it was a bitch.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me.” Adrian said sincerely, as he was well aware of the fact that having answers would do nothing as they were meritless, “ _So_ , you don’t need to-“ He waved his hand in Deran’s direction, “Do that.” _That_ being the hesitance and the wallowing by himself at the door as if that had meant anything. Or do anything.

What was the point.

He rubbed at his temple as he sighed.

The throbbing returns, the eight or so pills he had taken seemed to have been as futile as his proclivity to be receptive.

“Deran-“ He struggled to find the words, doesn’t want to mince it whatsoever. Adrian wavered his eyes over Deran, and at that very moment he knew that it would be a disservice to every subsequent exchange that they might possibly have if he didn’t say something different.

To be honest, by this time, if they continued to engage in a homogenous talk, they would be walking in circles for the rest of their life.

What would he have said?

_I don’t care._

_You don’t have to explain?_

_I’m tired._

_I’m angry._

_I don’t care._

_I **don’t** care._

_You need to explain._

_Stop running in fucking circles._

_Own up to it._

_Fuck you._

_Fuck you for putting me here._

_Fuck **you**._

“I can’t keep doing this, Deran.”

Deran nodded neutrally, eyes starved of its usual hue. His glare is narrow and Adrian’s skin doesn’t prickle under his ogle. Adrian fixated on the ordinary wall behind Deran, found some unceremonious satisfaction on how _reliable_ that wall would be. It wasn’t anything other than what it appeared to be. Maybe some mold or maybe just dead space, but those were the two binary possibilities.

“I somehow,” Adrian snorted, voice strained, “Told myself that- _fuck_ , I don’t know what I told myself. Probably the same thing you told yourself.” He made the assumption,  “That this time, something would be different. Because this time we were on the same level?” Adrian paused, the palpable constricting tautness suspended in the air.

Deran grated his jaw, to the point where the bones protruded out from under his flesh. The sound is raucous and it is absorbed by Adrian’s eardrums.

“Or who the fuck knows right?” He struggled to even expunge a sigh, “I thought a lot of things but I know that for certain-“ which only alleviated his discomfort, “-that the reason why you and me will always work or we think it will work is because I’m _you_ , Deran. Just as much as you are _me_. There’s too much of each other in ourselves and I think we always talk _around_ the fact that _that_ is what is just keeping us on this tight _leash_ -“ he hissed, the word more apt than he had intended, “- _You_ are _me._ _I_ am _you_.”

And the quietness that imminently swallowed the entire room, was thunderous. It was ear-piercing and he flexed his hand up and beside the side of his face before patting down on his ear.

“ _You_ are _me._ _I_ am _you_.” His breath was labored as he repeated.

 _You are me. I am you. I’ve always been apart of fucking you!_ **_You_** _have always been a part of me!_

“We can’t talk around that, Deran.” The words seemed forced, as if he had a difficult time even saying it. Which, for all honesty, he did. But there seemed to be a level of fortitude that slipped everytime he kept saying it to himself.

 _You are me, I am you._ Like there, stop fucking talking around _that_.

“I can’t keep doing this, man.” Nothing atypical about what he had said, “ _We_ can’t keep doing this.”

Deran brought his hands to grip at the strands of hair hovering over his face. He slipped them behind his ears, holding on for longer than needed, palms covering the pupils of his eyes; a gaunt posture that seemed etched in marble as the sun cascaded through the slit of the window.

His hair is suspended in motion and Adrian had to catch his breath when the sight before him betrayed his resolute.

That it gave him the impression to let it just go. To let it be. To say the same things. _Expect_ the same things. Nothing would make a difference. What would it matter in the grand scheme of things? Dissapointment, he was used to. Get even more used to. Dejection, wear it as a shield. He could arm himself as he always had and nothing would have to change because no matter how many times he’d try to take the armour off, he’d start everyday with the cloak forcefully thrust upon him.

But-

The weight was too large to bear. The burden was to dense to carry. The anger was too strong to wear off. The need to want something else appeared as nothing more than a distant illusion.

 _He_ couldn’t **do** this.

It was more than that. It was more than him.

 _They_ couldn’t **do** this.

“Last night-“ his words parched as he swallowed them whole, “Was _fucked_ up,” he agreed, “Last night was a lot of things but it’s _not_ going to be _this_ ,” he waved his hands in the space between them, “We have to stop running around in a fucking circle, Deran. We keep pretending like there are corners to hide but they don’t _fucking exist!_ ” The words are unfamiliar and the territory seemed foreign, the direction of conversation seemed similar but to engage-it seemed, novel.

“ _We-_ you hear me?” He barked, “We can’t keep fucking doing this.” Deran swept his hand over his forehead and placed it there, “ _WE_.” Adrian pleaded, “ _I can’t_ keep fucking do this. I’m-“ _tired. Exhausted. Weak. Drained. Wearied._ “-not-“ He gritted his teeth, slabbed them together as he fought away the tremor that yearned to seep through the tone of his voice.

Adrian loosened his grip on the handrail, retracted his hand and curled it over his other hand. He pressed his fingers into his flesh, squeezing at the crevices of his extremities to relieve the swelling.

“If you-“ he began, “If you even fucking care-“ which Adrian didn’t necessarily disbelieve, neither did he want to presume, “-about me, if you even _lo_ -“ he doesn’t know how to finish the word, so the word died on his lips, “-you’d stop _this_.” His voice shrilled, “We’d _stop_ all of this.”

Everything.

They needed to just _stop_.

“We’re getting _no_ where, Deran,” he maintained a level of composure in his voice , “ _no where_ , man. And I think we need to just accept that-that we will probably never get anywhere.” He said with simple directness, anticipating prickling at his skin.

Adrian watched, waited even for Deran to respond. A part of him was thankful that he was met with absolute and utter silence. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint whether that meant that maybe those words weren’t falling to deaf ears or maybe they were. But he was diffusely thankful.

Because Adrian played over their countless conversations; the words playing in the back of his mind. How it could go, how it had always gone.

And he needed this time to be different.

They both needed for it to be different.

“We’re always gonna be friends, Deran. You hear me?” He choked, “You’re my _best fucking friend_. Nothing’s going to change that,” Adrian had to assure him because even in the back of his mind, the thought of being nothing to each other induced a pit in his stomach that he was novel to.

They’d never said that to each other.

Over the years, it was always implicit.

But maybe Deran needed to _hear_ it.

They would always be friends.

A decade warranted that.

“You remember when we first-“

Deran held his hand out. His eyes continued to be shielded by his posture. The way he angled his head down, his pupils harbored by the sandy blonde locks.

“Don’t.” Deran croaked, “ _Don’t_.”

Adrian wrapped his hands securely around his chest, gripping onto his flesh as if any sense of existing emerged from the way his nails would pierce into his pale and feeble hands and the sensation ran up and sent shivers down his back.

Adrian wondered if something had turned awry-usually he only saw Deran shut down like that when he was being provoked or riled. But as much as he would easily assume that what had been said between the, had been the cause of it, he’s slow to believe it was that simple. It was never that simple.

He looked up, frowning as realization hit, and the moisture in his throat fled, leaving him feel simultaneously sullen and oddly worn out.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He fumed, aware of what that had _meant_ to Deran. “I’m right _here_ , Deran. I’m right _HERE_.”

And how could he leave?

He had tried that months ago. What ended up happening? They had somehow found a way to get back to this. There was no escaping each other and there was no need for them to accept the farce or the unlikelihood of that possibility.

“Because you’re my best friend and I’m not going anywhere-“ he promised, finding sensation in his foot as he took a step forward. He gripped his hand once more against the handrail, before taking another step.

“-but _we_ can’t keep doing this.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH. ok. Talk to me? I'm on tumblr--> okaywhateverokayyes. 
> 
> Same name.
> 
> Hit me up.
> 
> Or don't?
> 
> Animal Kingdom Season 2: May 30th, 2017. Time? No clue.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BEEN OVER A MONTH AND I AM JUST-AWFUL AND SORRY AND HERE YOU GO. ENJOY.

He grabbed the scale from behind the sofa, placed it on the kitchen tiled floor. He slipped off his slippers, frisking his toes as he stared down at something he hadn’t seen in for months. It’s not so much that he was the kind of guy who weighed himself because that meant something to him in an impersonal way. He was the callous guy who ate crusty cereal for breakfast, and sometimes lunch and dinner. He would eat out every single day and if he hadn’t had his garbage chute stuffed with pizza cardboard boxes, he would wonder whether he was even in his own place.

It wasn’t about his weight, rather than him wanting to be up to speed and prepared. His _relative weight_ on the other hand, was what concerned him.

Ed, for all his nonchalance and crude jokes, had been right.

If he trained properly, genuinely, in the way he was meant to train, he’d be able to at least get in third place. That wasn’t a 12 grand prize, reserved for runner up, but he knew that he’d get his name out.

He rubbed his hands together in trepidation. It was the kind of concern that tore him down when he couldn’t be voluntarily apart of changing that very emotion.

It had been a while-surfing. Taking part in competitions, local or on a large scale. Having his name present in the game was half- _three quarters_ of the entire schpiel. Once his name got lost, stuck in whatever crevice it had found, he wondered what it would mean to talk back out.

He lifted his foot up, pressed it against the cool glass surface before stepping up completely.

It flickered slightly, a thin line etched on the screen, disappearing before reappearing.

 _149_.

He could squat about, maybe-considering the hypertrophy in his lower back and his calves, conflated with the lack of any upper body exercise-a good 165.

165 divided by 149-

Math, he snorted quietly under his breath as he shoved the scale under the table with his left leg. Math, that was something he had become good at. Most of surfing had to do with math _and_ it had a lot to do with physics. The only thing he had ever really pragmatically focused on in school was those two. They inextricably worked together and when those worked in his mind, then the surfing part was trying to conform the quantitative part with the physical aspect.

1.1 BW.

 _Okay. About 1.1 body weight_ , which- _not too bad_.

He grabbed the slanted paper off of his fridge, wavering his eyes to the bottom of the list.

Last measured bodyweight had been 1.26.

He’d fallen short; that didn’t necessarily mean he had to change to better suit his body needs. That meant he had to amp his intake and full-body circuit workouts if he were to resume to a modicum of standard body weight he was more aware of.

Adrian had bought his boards, even designed most of them, with a volume mindful of his bodyweight.

It worked like this; buoyancy was equivalent to volume of the surfboard. It meant that the heavier he got, the more volume, _buoyancy_ , he needed to float him. If his board didn’t float him in the water, the more drag there would be as he paddled, and the _slower_ he’d be able to move.

Basically fucking himself before he even has the chance to ride the wave.

He had several boards stored in the room beside the front door, which was way smaller than a possible bedroom and much larger than a closet space. He had stored them in there and even arranged them according to it’s volume. He mostly had enough 32 and 37 L to last him a life time, with a few 45L leveling on wall grafts.

His average shortboard would weigh around 29 to maybe 34 Litres, a longboard a mere 70 to 98 Litres. His one stand up paddle surfing board toppled 250 Litres, which were never needed unless there were closeouts.

Adrian walked towards the door, twisted the door knob, giving it a little effort as the hook clasped itself a little tighter into the nudge.

His eyes fell upon the wall furthest to him, where most of his short boards were stacked up beside each other.

He had one small short board, compared with the other 8 that had consumed the entirety of the wall space. Only when Adrian focused on the slang turquoish lines running vertically does he remember that there had been a wall.

 _149 pounds_. His average shortboard had been about 29 litres, which meant he had targeted surfs with a 5.13 lb/L ratio.

When he had first learned the maneuvers behind the sport, and he continued to come into the 5 V/W range, he’d sometimes be frustrated with himself. He had always heard about how everyone who rode out on a regular basis had an average of 6.5 lb/L. He tried to change his regimens, eating-anything and everything he could physically change and yet, somehow, the 5 stuck to him like a leech and a broken capillary inundating the surrounding flesh with blood.

Yet, he had no problem. None whatsoever. He’d found out an opportune time that even though he had larger boards than the other guys who had practically found this avenue as their local rodeo-that it wasn’t about the smallness of the board.

His board wasn’t too large and conflated with the fact that he had good technique, he hadn’t had the need to worry about torqueing the board around his upper body. The board wasn’t too small that he couldn’t force his technique on it. He paddled swiftly, he caught waves on time and never bogged down on turns.

Adrian slightly jolted when the buzzing in his pockets sent a twinge up and against his leg. He slid his hand into his pocket, swept his eyes over the screen-

_Ed_

He swiped his thumb across the screen and pressed his phone against his ear, glancing around the room for the Buckzaster.

“ _Adrian_ ,” a more than enthusiastic shrill reached his eardrums.

“Yeah,” he tried to keep a leveled tone as he rummaged through the slanted boards, “What’s up?”

“What’s up?! _Man_ , how’s it _going_?”

He grabbed his corky 64, angled the board forward and glanced behind because the last he could recall, he had placed it beside that one.

“Trying to find my board.”

“Senor Buck?”

Adrian shoved corky beside the TW, sliding his hands against the surface as he continued his search.

“Nope.”

He reached over for the blind drop, tugging on the string until some rays emanated through. The specks of sun that washed over the room is almost purposeful, as it brought light into spaces that he could barely discern.

“Oh! The splitfireeeee,” Ed’s smirk could be heard through his presumptuous assumption.

Adrian nudged the backend of his phone with his chin, lifting his shoulder for extra guidance so that it would stick between his ear and his clavicle.

“ _No_ , Ed. The Buckzaster.”

He heard an overtly obnoxious snort, “The _buckzaster_? Amigo, what did I say about that? Palo con los classicos! You always stick with the fine-tuned classics, man.”

“I don’t remember the last time I’d touched uncle Buck,” an endearing name that he didn’t have the good fortune of giving, but rather given by companies and which have definitely not fallen upon deaf ears. Ed, him and many of the guys had found them to be just as normal as calling them for what they were but the names gave it a sense of specialty that nothing could replace.

Adrian rested his hands on his waist, flickering at his bottom lip as he turned to face the wall closest to the door.

It was quick but as he glanced at TP, he noticed the longboard slanted against Comp and Arenal.

 _What was it doing there_.

Maybe he hadn’t been as organized as he had thought.

“We closing up now, man. You think I can come in a little later tomorrow? Got to go to the garage and get my oil changed, you know?”

Adrian gripped onto the nail of the board, carefully sliding it from under the other two longboards.

“Adrian.”

“Yeah-yea-uh-yeah,” he shifted his elbow against the TW, to keep it from falling, as he pulled away the Buckzaster. “It’s cool, let me know when you get in.”

“You got it, man. Try not to hang eleven, huh?” Ed barked, a snide remark that easily made past his lips.

Adrian rolled his eyes, chortling in response. Not sure he would ever even consider riding his board in the nude or even without his suit-

That was too unbecoming of him.

“ _What_ -only in my wet dreams?”

Adrian slipped his phone from under his grip, mumbling a quick, “Good night,” before pressing the switch bar until the screen went a pitch dark, dropping the phone into his khakis’ pocket.

He slipped out the door, the board tucked under his armpit. 

 

There was a mellow and putrid air that hovered his head. It was almost as if he had walked into a dark abyss with smoldering mist obscuring his vision. It was more of a mind play than anything 

being actually wrong. His oven off, microwave plugged out-

 

Adrian set the board against the front door, settling his hand against the nail of the board, swiping his head against his forehead.

 

_Fuck-how out of shape was he?_

 

He looked up at the slanted clock hanging off of holster in between the hallway and his bedroom. 

 

8:23.

 

Food. He needed food. There was an urge to pick up the phone and call the Thai place a mile away, knowing their alacrity would mean that his food would arrive even before he slipped his longboard into the back of his truck. 

 

Yet, the fastidiousness of the preparation of food meant that his carb intake would most likely be shot to shit. 

 

He knew that market would be open maybe till 9. Zach worked there on Saturday's and Tuesday's, the last he could recollect. Maybe he'd be willing to let Adrian push that time limit just so he could get what he needed. Going tomorrow morning meant that it would take away his time on the strength training. 

 

He needed to stick to some stringent permanence routine. He had less than four months and every minute he spends on not being focused, he would be scurrying for futile shit.

 

Adrian pulled out of his cell, texted haphazardly ‘still at work?’ waited-not having to wait too long when he received a ‘shift ends in 20.’

 

Adrian was swift as he replied with ‘need food-‘ he glosses over the next word ‘ _urgent_ ’ he added, just to make sure.

 

(…)

 

He doesn’t wait for a reply as he strung his keys into the helm of his hand, tugged the door open and pulled his truck out from the invisible divided parking lot.

 

He was within the speed limit, glancing speedometer every moment a blaringly white speed zone sign passed  by. It became habitual to the point where as he concentrated on other than driving safely and following the signs, he found himself in the front lot.

 

He spotted Zach grabbing the carts spread across the lot, waved in his direction. Zach jabbed his fist in the air in response, an acknowledgement that Adrian perceived to be as one that spoke along the lines of _Dude, yeah-got your text_ and somewhere, maybe it was Adrian’s preconceived bias, but _somewhere_ , it also included a dash of _take your time, dude._

 

Adrian took large strides inside, noticed a person here and there. People tended to shop at all hours of the day and no one was privy to understanding what closing time had meant. This was O-side-this was just a human fallacy. Closing time translated to last-chance-to-get-through-the-doors-and-being-on-the-dot-meant-it-really-wasn’t-closing-time-

 

Wherever they were capable of surmising their own conclusions, was out of his hypocrisy. As he stood there, front facing the racks, he slid his hand through his hair as he walked to the back. He has mental images of what he was used to eating, walked through the aisles and grabbed anything that screamed _CARBS-GOOD CARBS_.

 

Steel-cut oatmeal, whole mix-bars, bread-and then some. Eggs, milk, toffee bars _because cheat days_. If that was a concept he even understood because if he was being honest, there was nothing more fulfilling then toffee. Even though, theoretically, there weren’t any nutritional aspects to it, he had a hard time registering that they didn’t.

 

The beer pack? Yeah, no excuses.

 

It was only as he got to the rear end does his mind start recollecting _other_ things that he might have needed, nothing whatsoever to do with food intake.

 

Wiper fluid.

 

Scrub brush.

 

Wax spray.

 

He walked to the front, wrestling everything in the confines of his brisk hands.

 

Adrian wrapped the wiper fluid with his free hand and tucked it into his elbow, arching his back as he struggled to keep the scrub brush and toffee bars from slipping from his clutch. He lowered against the shelf, using the rail for balance as he gripped onto all the stuff, a little bit harder.

 

He lifted himself forwards, only to halt as the wiper fluid bottle begun to slip slowly. 

 

He knew it was futile to try but he rose his leg to provide a base to levy the loosening grip, only for it to slip past his leg and onto the ground. 

 

"For fucks-" Adrian muttered as he leant towards the floor, kneeling as he settled everything down.

 

He settled his knees on the cool tiles, moving the stuff closer to himself and it was  only when he reached for the can of jalapeños does he notice the lanky two feet that appear in front of him. 

 

His gravitated his eyes upwards as they land on Lena, who wore a toothy smile, holding onto a stuffed animal he hadn't seen before. It was purple, which for consistency sake, was apt. She liked purple. And flowers. She likes purple flowers even more- he'd remember that distinctly.

 

"Lena." He smiled, raising one leg to rest his right hand. 

 

"Hi." Her voice is meek as she replied, much more tonally older than he had last remembered. She wore khakis and a printed tank top. Had her hair in a ponytail and he was not surprised to see the rubber band was encrusted with tiny flower petals, rubber in all its glory. 

 

Adrian glanced around her, searched for familiar faces. He would avert his gaze every time he came across a dirty blonde head. There is an elderly lady taking a little too much interest in the 'buy two get one free' pickled jars option, a couple of kids buzzing around the baked goods corner-there was a pair of Girl Scouts hanging out at the front, a table laid with all the various assortments of cookies. 

 

 _Kind of late for that shit_ he pondered, slipping it past his mind as he refocused on Lena.

 

Although-

 

The familiar dark green box stuck out as he raised himself up. 

 

"You here with your dad?" 

 

Lena clasped her hands around her waist, shaking her head as she tossed her ponytail backwards, gently combing through the ends with her nimble fingers. 

 

The options were limited. 

 

"Smurf?" 

 

Another shake. 

 

"Pope?" 

 

Lena  crossed her legs haphazardly as he watched her shake her head.

 

"J?" He croaked because  _shit- he was running out of names_.

 

"Nope." She replied, lowering down to grab his turpentine wax bottle. Adrian settled his hands on his waist as he watched her collect his stuff.

 

 “I think I’m running out of options.” He admitted, clipped his mouth shut when the inevitable slip seemed imminent.

Lena parsed her lips, “I think you have two more?”

Adrian knelt down, leveling with her height as he leaned forward to grab onto some of the things she couldn’t carry in her hands.

“Two?”

She tossed a pillsbury jar into the crook of his elbow, which he easily balanced with the box of cinnamon rolls, ibuprofen, grafts, six-pack single bottles and carton of eggs. She had two milk cans, lighter than usual and the shape of cartons, something he knew she was more than able to carry and a systane vial.

Lena held the eye drop flask and shoved it into the lane of his vision, waving it in front of his face.

“My eyes get itchy a lot.” He answered, “It helps.”

She was unamused as she clutched it in between her pint-sized hands.

Adrian glanced at the carts a short distance away, jabbed his finger in that direction as he stood up. He waited as she wobbled to her feet, finding her footing as she stepped beside him.

They take languid steps to the front of the store, Adrian pulling the cart from the railing clip as he settled the stuff into basket. Lena hovered her hands over the handle, glancing down before aiming for the empty spot near the front rear of the cart.

“Thank you.”

She wiped her hands together as she gazed up at him.

“You’re welcome.” It’s the quiet and soft-spoken way in which she responded that caused Adrian to chuckle. Because _kids_ , they were definitely not adults. They didn’t wear years of turmoil and pain in every step they took, or anguish drifting amongst the hues of their pupils. Everything was so _clean-slated_ , it was almost comical.

She kneaded her fingers behind her back, glancing as she swayed one foot over another, tapping at the floor in an almost verbatim pattern. Adrian looked around once more, waited for a familiar face only to his dismay to find none.

“Lena,” he said, kneeling beside her, “Who did you come with?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line. “Lucy.” She offered, a name so unfamiliar, it might as well have been a stranger.

“Lucy?” Adrian repeated, “Who’s Lucy?”

Lena shrugged, “Daddy’s friend.” She said in a manner as if even she was just repeating words spoken to her. As if that was anything she could offer. Nothing more, nothing less. “We’re just getting food together.” Words so deliberate, Adrian glanced over her once more.

And as if there was a gut feeling he had listened to, he watched as a woman-a woman so reminiscent of Cat with her long, hazel hair, tinted caramel skin-strode in their direction. She wore an apologetic scorn, whisking her hands and curling them around Lena’s shoulders. “There you are! You just wandered off…”

Adrian had to blink, just to make sure. If it were any other day and if he had seen _Lucy_ from the back, well fuck. He would have thought Cat might have somehow found a way to be alive. But watching this _Lucy_ , it’s a difference so trivial, her presence seemed deliberate. Nothing insignificant about her eerily similarities.

 _Baz’s friend_. Huh.

She caught his glare, pressed Lena against her, in an almost protective way. As if she had to protect Lena against him when he has the sudden urge to do the complete same thing to Lena, from _her_.

Right.

The railing was hot against the palm of his hand. He slipped his hand to his side as he glanced back in their direction. “Adrian,” he extended his palm out of sheer habit.

“And?” It was a dismissal so overt, Adrian blinked in surprise.

He would have been slightly amused if it weren’t for the fact that this wasn’t Cat. This was Baz’s friend. A friend who looked very much like Cat and coincidence was something that even Baz could not even be capable of.

“I’m-“ and he stopped short. What was there to say. He was Deran’s friend? A comment so innocuous yet parched his lips as they died on his tongue. It doesn’t come easy to say it. Like what was a usual answer seemed like a habit that shattered without him even trying.

“Adrian,” Lena slipped from under her grasp, “Deran’s _friend_.” Lena offered.

“Oh,” does nothing to assuage her disinterest, “Okay.”

Lena stepped forward, curled her hand around the rail and jolted the cart slightly forward. She stepped on her tippy toes as she hovered her head over the cart, her eyes wavering all over.

Lucy reached forward, Adrian stepping back. She grabbed Lena’s wrist, tugged slightly as she addressed him. “Thanks for…” It’s void of any sincerity. Adrian mumbled a low ‘ _right_ ’ as he shifted to the rear of the cart.

Lena was stagnant as Lucy continued to tug. She would grip the rail even harder, a ghostly white appearing in the indentations of the metal rail against her palms. Adrian pressed the sole of his slipper against the front caster, stopping the jolt forward as Lena pushed once more.

She slanted her head as she glanced at him.

“Come _on_ , Lena.” She persisted, as if it wasn’t the first time that Lena had acted this way towards her. It was not so much stubbornness as it was indifference. Indifference towards _Lucy_ and indifference towards who she was with. As if it made no difference.

Sure, he knew her. She knew him. She had seen him before. He was less of a stranger than he surmised her to be.

“Lena!”

This time, Lena whisked around, ripping her wrist away from her clutch. She held a scornful scowl on her face, curled her brows inwards as she moved away. Her nostrils quietly flared as she dragged her feet away from Lucy, cusping the rear end of the cart as she glanced back up at Lucy.

It was not indifference at that moment-it was sheer resentment. It manifested in the way she would avoid her eyes, scowl seared in the etches of her lips and eyes. She focused on the tiled floor with such intensity, Adrian has to squint to see whether she was searing a hole in the ground.

“I can take her.” He had watchful eyes as he followed Lena’s gaze, which at the moment, were at her feet. She had worn slippers as well. They were white as they could possibly get, muddled with specks of sand but they do nothing but make her seem that much more  innocent.

“I don’t know who you are.”

Adrian paused, compressed his lips.

“I don’t know who _you_ are.” He said, lifting his leg from off of the caster. “I’ll give Baz a call and drop her off.”

He saw that she goes to retort. He held his phone out, swiped his thumb across the screen, scrolled through his contacts, doesn’t have to go far before he found Baz. He held the screen out towards her, waves it slightly, most likely presumptuously, before he pressed the cell against his ear.

“He’s not at his place.”

Adrian doesn’t take her word for it. He gave a noncommittal shrug, waited for the beep to become a droning buzz.

It goes to voicemail. Which consisted of nothing more than an informal ‘hey. Baz Blackwell. Out of town. Call me-“ Cut.

“I don’t know who you are.”

Adrian dispensed with the stoic silence he’d been honing in on for years as he slipped his phone into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet, fetched some 20 bills. He tapped at Lena’s shoulder, dropping a ten dollar bill in between her petite hands. “Do you like thin mints?”

She looked over, as if she also had taken notice of the table out front. Her eyes glimmered as she leapt off of the plate. “Yeah.” She fisted the bill in her hands, gentle that the word seemed inapt. “ _Yes_.”

“Cool.” He threw on a smile, etched his lips forcefully, the effort of doing so drained him more than he had expected. It feels unfamiliar and ingenuine but not so much that he can’t hold it together.

She was nimble as she dashed through the chase doors.

“Listen-“

“Lucy, right?” Adrian averted her gaze, subconsciously or maybe consciously, aware of the fact that her eerie similarity induced a pit in his lower stomach that had him repulsed at what it would mean if he were to think about it, “I’m Adrian. Deran’s _friend_.” He repeated the putrid words, “Is Baz gonna be back later?”

At first, she pursed her lips. A sighed in the way one would when they were too consumed by other thoughts to have to put up a front.

She clutched onto her bag, the familiarity of it probably gave her some comfort. “Yeah. I don’t know. He has work.” It doesn’t take much for her to abandon her resolve. “Maybe. I tried texting him and I didn’t hear anything back.” She offered way more than he expected.

It was unbecoming of the very concept of strangers engaging in a discourse.

Yet, it didn’t feel like they had to know each for a certain period of time to _know_ each other.

An implicit understanding that spoke volumes; knowing the Cody family in the manner they did, that being nimble and reticent would be the most apt choices they could ever make.

“I do know her,” he signaled out front. “But I also get that you don’t know me.” Adrian wet his parched lips, swiping his tongue once-over. “And I don’t know _you_.” An unsatisfactory of a situation. “I-“

 _Don’t know what to say._ Maybe somewhere along the lines of _she doesn’t look like she wants to be around you._ And _I don’t think I can leave her knowing **that**. _

Yet, what came out instead- “have no idea what the fuck to say.” Lies. It had become habitual. “I mean, I do.” But being perfunctory was too _easy_. “ _Uh-_ “

“I get it.” She slid a strand of hair that fell upon her face, behind her ear. She glanced back, fixing the crane of her necklace simultaneously. A cross. “But I can’t leave her with you, for that same reason.” There was a twang of brininess that seeped through, “Can’t leave her with anyone else.” And the reasoning for the acerbity is clarified.

Burden. What a burden it must have been.

Adrian, from his periphery, watched as Lena clutched onto the green box but her hands frizzled as she jostled another box, purple, stacked on top of this shimmering pack.

“Don’t know anyone else.”

Adrian wondered if that was enough of an excuse. He also wondered why she needed an excuse. Yet as he ran the possibilities through his mind, Cat’s blaringly hazel eyes flashed across his mind, had Adrian coughing into the helm of his elbow.

It felt wrong.

To just give in-

_"You do this shit on purpose!"_

_Deran dismissively snorted, grazing his back towards him. There was a draft that he dragged and carried on his shoulders, filtering the air out of the room. It was the kind where Adrian had to waver his eyes all over the room, search for a crevice in a slightly opened door or an ajar window._

_It was the sort of breathless that was subconscious and yet, he was unable to make that distinction after a mere couple of seconds._

_"I said that I didn't want to go- I told you over and over again and you kept fucking asking me. Fine! I said I would and I show up and then I am disinterested because that's exactly why I didn't want to come in the first place-" Adrian was fuming. "-and yet it's like you kind of forget that I said no!"_

_Another fervent shaking of his head. Adrian fisted his hair into his hand, a silent whimper threatening to pour out. He clamped down on his teeth, knew where this would eventually end up. Having to keep having this same conversation was the kind of wearing down that ate at his bones. It was as tangible as anything actually slicing into his skin._

_He pressed his thumb into the crane between his brows, rubbing in circles. He had spent the day waxing down boards, expending energy when the resistance pulled and dragged his muscle fibers, stretching in a way that felt as if they still hadn't relaxed._

_Adrian had been in unfortunate circumstances, some more by will than mere chance. He knew how it felt to have his head pummeled into freshly laid cement. He was the creme of the crop when it came to being a target for comedic fortunes at the expense of his physical stature._

_He had cracked a rib as he underestimated the impact of diving knelt down when he surf broke near the the barrier reef once in OC._

_Those were pains he expected and those he can handle. They were as much visceral as they were those he could actually see with his own eyes. He could see the swelling under his eye and the cut that stemmed from his jaw to somewhere beside his ear. He had x-rays of his sternum cracked. He felt his breath hitch in his throat when he laughed a little too fast, a little too long. He knew the repercussions of that injury._

_But this-_

_This was a scar that was as invisible as gravity. The thought of it was almost cynical- gravity held them afoot and without it, they would be suspended in air._

_What Deran did to him felt more akin to a black hole. Where the sheer force of the gravity would shred him into subatomic particles and then some._

_A theory that seemed more tangible to him given the circumstances._

_But it was the kind of atrophy that dug into his mind. He worried whether everything had to be calculated and how long he would be able to sustain such a feat: what to say, what to do, when to do it, who talk to, why to just not be._

_Weight crushed the simplicity of those generic questions._

_The irony of it all was, despite being fraught and taut in all directions, he felt suspended in air despite the intensity of the drag. He, in theory, should be a muddled mess. In stature than anything. Yet, he found a way to walk vertically and get on his day. But if he'd taken more notice of the way he walked, he'd notice just how suspended he was. It almost felt like he was amongst clouds, the ground a light pillow that he barely grazes his feet against. Almost as if there was no sense of gravity._

_He tried averting his gaze when they fell upon his feet. Just the thought of feeling grounded when he felt anything but stung to the point where he wanted to jam his fist into shards of glass. Over. And over. Again._

_But sometimes, the thoughts preceded the action. He could visualize himself under such duress physically and emotionally but the mere thought of having his mind coagulate into a muddled mess had somehow become his place of solace. Because-hey- if they saw these cuts and burns etched into his skin, it was too easy to notice. And the worst party of that simplicity was the very fear he had that if they had noticed, would they even bother trying to help?_

_That was a risk he wasn't willing to make._

_He'd rather fall and have that graze be prevalent in the confines of his skull rather than visible on his flesh. He'd rather be comforted by the fact that because they couldn't see, they couldn't know and for that very reason, they couldn't **help.**_

_He often doesn't think about the fallacies in his logic._

_Denial was such a good friend. Reliable in the most uncanny and disconcerting ways._

_"Don't tell me what I can be-" Adrian whispered, his voice strained by every consecutive word, "you fucking piece of shit." He gnawed at his nails as he pushed off the wall, slipping into the hallway leading to the back part of his place._

_He had the sudden urge to glance down, watch as his toes curled into the wooden slabs on the floor. It's an urge so persistent and insistent, he had to fist his hands at his sides as he jostled the knob a couple of times to the bathroom._

_He doesn't switch on the light, keen on avoiding the hues of red that crept up on his cheeks. He felt the prickles at the corners of his eyes and he would rather much imagine that they were a novelty of his imagination than be the actual truth._

_He pressed his wet hands briskly against his face, kneading his fingers over his closed eyes. They are soft jabs into his skin, those that were able to coincidentally come across the sources of discomfort and vessels waiting to be sprung._

_It was a moment of silence that wasn't deafening. It felt cerebral in a way that reminded him once again that he was in some state of limbo and most likely would always be there._

_Cool fingers wrap around his wrist, tug him forward and soon he has his beck pressed into the frame of the bathroom door._

_He whipped his eyes open, clamped his mouth shut as he watched Deran rake his hand around his neck, lean forward almost blindingly. It takes a level of restraint that he had converted somewhere in his willpower to not just push back- because this was the kind of Deran who wouldn't fret to push further._

_It was the way his nostrils flared synchronically with the way he would pierce his eyes with such intensity that Adrian's forehead blazed._

_"Don't fucking sum me up."  A threat so common, Adrian felt the words fall on deaf ears. It was what Deran hid in some crevice in his mind that doesn't come to fruition unless he's in the company of someone who was less like them. "You don't know jack shit." He shrilled , crushing his nose into Adrian's._

_Hands planted on Adrian's chest and shoved. Adrian stifled a oomph as he's further pressed into the jambs of the door, curling his hand around the knob to concentrate on dulling his aching chest. To ground him._

_Because it was easy to give in-_

_To give up._

_To fold in._

_To not just be._

_With Deran, it was better not to think too much. Maybe it could be simple and if Deran were going to continue to believe that with every fiber in his body, Adrian felt the need to meet him half way._

_This could be simple._

_Adrian dropped his head back, loosening his curled fists._

_He leaned in and the collar of Deran's shirt was stretched just enough that Adrian could fit his tongue into the hollow at the bottom of his throat. He was biting his tongue, tasting the putrid taste of blood that he swallowed in a swift motion._

_Deran grip dropped off his wrist and it was a quick  work for Adrian to pop a button and slip his hand into Deran's loose jeans._

_Deran breathed in. Adrian breathed out._

_And simple, for all intensive purposes was easy._

_Which meant he was giving in, giving up. Not being._

_Yet he somehow doesn't know how to not make that distinction._

_Simple was easy. Yet simple couldn't possibly be easy._

_Because if that were the case-_

He believed her-somewhat. She had to be Baz’s _friend_. She looked too much like Cat to not be. There was a false equivalency he would surmise for the sake of the situation.   _But_ It was more along the lines of if he believed her completely, it only meant that there was a **reason** as to why she looked like Cat. And none of them were putting Baz in the saint category. Not that he ever was or given him a reason to be.

But something about it having been a mere few weeks since they’ve found her body, the disconcerting pit that is hollowed in his stomach, churned at the thought. There was no easy answer. She couldn’t be explained with a simple clarification.

There were no such things as easy _and_ simple. There were things in life that were so simple that were not easy to do. Then there were things that were easy but not simple to complete.

Adrian had to glance beside the cart when he watched Lena drop the other two boxes into the cart. She peeled the box open, pulling two thin mints. She handed one over to Adrian before consuming the other in one swift bite. She broke out into a grin when he knew that the intense taste was absorbed by her tongue.

He glanced up at Lucy, watched as she held her gaze on Lena. It was an almost patient look that didn’t suit her.

What could he possibly say that would be conducive and supplemental to his unease. To _her_ , he was a stranger. To him, she was a stranger. Either way he looked at it, they both were strangers to Lena.

Lucy languidly lifted her head up, wrapping her hands swiftly around her chest. She drew her brows in as she focused on him, the same thing he was doing from the periphery of his eyes. They continued to do so, a back-and-forth that ended when she pressed her cell up against her ear. She stepped back and whisked towards the aisle, dropping her other hand to her waist in what Adrian imagined to be in frustration. Sheer and utter impatience emanating with every step she took.

Which suited her more aptly.

“He’s not _picking_ up.”

Adrian swiped his thumb across his screen, typed a haphazard ‘who the fuck is Lucy’ and pressed sent. He shoved his phone into his shorts’ pocket, curling his hand around the rail.

“Then I guess we’re screwed.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has it really been over a month? Well-shit.

Pope sat on the steps at the front porch. He focused on the dwindling horizon, his hair swept by the wind that brazed his head gently. His eyes were glistened just by the sheer refraction from the moon hovering over the tidal waves.

Adrian slowed his pacing, Lucy and Lena soon much farther ahead of him.

Pope, like the keenly observant person he was, found himself standing to his feet as they approached him. He tapped his wrist watch, once satisfied with what he had been looking for, brought his head up.

“Baz won’t be back till Monday.”

Lucy clutched onto her bag. Lena extricated herself from her grip, running past Pope as she slid through the open door. She waved offhandedly in Adrian’s direction before she disappeared beyond the transparent glass.

Adrian felt glued to the gravel. He buzzed out their minimal conversation, itched at the back of his forehead until Lucy brazed past his shoulder.

She doesn’t say anything to him as she walks towards the direction from which they had just come from.

That was his cue-to just go. To find his feet and make a run for it. And yet, his skin prickled as he shifted around in his spot. He mustered enough strength, turned on his heel, extended his hand out in an effort to find some leverage, took the first step-

“Deran’s at your place.”

Adrian stopped short.

His head felt lighter. Adrian withdrew his hand, rubbing his hand over his face. He had his back to Pope so him seeing him trying to hide his weariness was nothing for him to fret over. And yet, Adrian was wary of making that assumption.

Pope had a sense of omnipresence to him that shook Adrian’s core.

“I told him to take some Lemon Bars. He probably has them. He should have them,” there was a level of stoic indifference in his voice that was unparalleled to those he had ever heard from. “I brought them myself. You still like them right.” Albeit it being a rhetorical question, Adrian found himself slowly nodding.

The last time he had lemon bars was _years_ ago.

Smurf had made them. Adrian was invited over for dinner-he had to stay late for practice and he showed up. Deran and the others were grazing through another round of Grand Theft so he had found himself accompanying Smurf as she pulled the bars out from the oven and offered him the first bite to taste. Out of sheer trepidation, Adrian ate it whole, Pope being the one to smack his back willfully which helped ease him from choking.

They were good.

They were _really_ good.

 _Shit_.

Adrian caught his breath in his throat as Pope stepped up beside him, kept his distance-The best Pope could do considering his inability to understand what personal space even entailed.

“I think he has more patience than me,” Pope admitted. He tapped his wrist watch once more. “So don’t keep him waiting.” Like there, I’ve said what I needed to say. Yet, Adrian found no comfort in the finiteness of his words.

 It was more of a visceral tendency for him to find his footing. Everytime he felt stuck to the ground, he’d find himself biting the inside of his mouth in a way that would cause blood to curdle. The acrid taste of it awoke his upper half of his body and it doesn’t take much before he finds himself moving towards the cemented gravel.

His pace was even and despite the circumstances, languid.

It was almost a self-regulating response that he had embodied to get himself out of situations that would render him incapable of moving-heck, _breathing_.

Yet, years of experience had come in hand.

He’d pull out of the driveway, knowing how to get back to his place with the sheer sounds of the rock under the soles of his truck tires. He was beside Henry’s diner, there was a dent in the road about a couple of seconds away, from there in which he would take the first right. He had have to get past about five or so road blocks cemented into the road before taking a left. He’d notice how the lights from off the street would dim-he’d count until the light dimmed just enough that he could only see the reflection of himself through the windshield before he’d pull into an alley. Sometimes it was occupied, most of the time it wasn’t.

He’d pull his truck up, pull his key out of the ignition, take his foot off the break, hand uncurled from the clutch. Just out of sheer repentance, he would tug the door open, grab the food from the passenger side, kick the door closed shut. He found it easy to maneuver the bags fisted in his hands as he slipped his key into the slit, twisted the knob and walked through.

He avoided eye contact as he dropped his gaze, kicking the front door shut as he dropped the bags beside the hanger.

Maybe it had been because Pope had informed him that Deran was waiting for him but maybe it wasn’t. The aura in the room had always morphed when Deran had found his way into his place. It felt heavier and his brooding glower emanated into the space as if it had to catch onto anything but stay hidden under his flesh.

“You’re training again?”

“Hm?” He frowned, wondering how he had made it that _obvious_ when it had been just a mere day he had even considered it, “Yeah,” he answered, kneading his cool fingers together. There was nothing definite in his upper body, his arms had started to look flaccid and atrophy seemed like an understatement. His skin was pale-the pale that made him wonder whether the ghostly white was an exaggeration and the one he wore, was a more apt reflection of genuine after-life transparency.

Deran sauntered to the wall farthest away, slid his hands behind his back, in what seemed like a criss-cross, slanting his back aptly against the cement. He held out his legs a foot away, which he was capable of doing with the frame he had and the core strength he retained that, despite him looking comfortable leaning against the wall, he had found comfort in also being able to stretch.

Adrian let the heaviness settle in his chest, hallowing out his breathing by letting the tide consume in. He’d usually be drowned swiftly by the heaviness but as he pressed his nails into his flesh, he had been grounded.

Grounded in a manner that he was not cognizant of. He had done this before-he had tried almost everything to stay focus, clear and attentive. Nail-piercing had been considered ineffective _years ago_ and yet as he gritted his jaw as a concerted effort to stifle the gasp when his nail grazed his palm, he didn’t question why it was effective _now_.

To have something he had given up on, work now-those were coincidences that would not go amiss.

Deran held himself with a tether that seemed like would falter if he would even      stand vertically, without anything supporting him. It was the way in which he gripped onto the wall, despite there being nothing for him to grab that would give him a grip-

It was the way he would grit his jaw to the point where the synchronous cracks ricocheted off of Adrian’s ear in shattering silence. It was the way Deran would clamp down on his mouth, swallowing whatever he felt compelled to say yet decided that doing so, would be futile. It was the hue on his cheeks, the crimson red, that indicated that Deran was successfully trying to slow down his breathing to keep himself in check. A rosy red, more so. A color that wasn’t as overt as Adrian had imagined but all anyone had to do was _look_ and notice that Deran was fuming internally.

It was the way he honed in on one spot that wasn’t in Adrian’s direction, and held his gaze in a desperate attempt to stay grounded. A tactic so obsolete, Adrian wondered how it still _worked_. He had spent _years_ having to change anything and everything so that there wasn’t a cloud around his judgement-some attempts were more futile than others-and yet, Deran-the thing that had kept him alert had continued to work.

He had a grip on himself that even he wouldn’t blink an eye to see that he did in face have something to ground him.

“Tell me.”

Adrian turned in his direction, hated the weariness that dragged his shoulders when he realized that circles were overrated because they never ended. If Adrian had chosen to just take and take without wondering what and why he was taking _anything_ , that circle would be as infinite as the drag that wore him down.

“What?” Deran’s voice was coarse, stoic-hammered with the most indifference that he could muster.

“What happened that night.” Adrian said, dropping his hands to his side, “Just, _tell me_.”

“Why?” He croaked, making no attempt at stifling his farce indifference.

“So we don’t feel like we’re walking in circles.” Adrian pointed out.

It was gritted- _clear_ -resolute. “Thought you didn’t want to know.” Adrian sensed the rancid indifference etched into the words. As if Deran had expected him to _not care_. As if that had become their standard usual discourse. If he could even call it that. Discourse meant that they both actively engaged in the conversation. That was the complete opposite of what they did.

There was always an impenetrable wall between them both. They both knew of it and if they had chosen to ignore it, they consumed ignorance for the sake of it being nothing more than just that.

“I lied.” Adrian didn’t miss a beat as he replied.

The floor creaked slightly.

“ _Oh_.” As if he hadn’t expected the blatant response. As if he subconsciously expected for them to run in circles. Deran, pushing. Adrian, crowded into a corner-giving up, giving in-but _not_ pushing back. But _there, he’d pushed back._ Adrian nodded to himself. _He’d **pushed** back. _ “Oh.”

“So-“Adrian pressed, silently pleading that silence wasn’t imminent, “Go on.” Stopping short of asking any preliminary questions, wanting to give Deran a blank sheet and hoping he would answer without having to be asked.

Usually, Adrian would ask what confused him-what bothered him-yet that was a circle that ended with Deran never offering more than Adrian had to ask. It was futile when Adrian seemed to accidentally make a point that although he only had a question or two to ask, that he wasn’t curious in the rest. Because for fuck’s sake, he _was._ He didn’t want to know just more than what he could muster to ask, he wanted to know _everything_.

Obscurity held an element that was not mystical, it was futile for both of them.

He would pick onto pieces that he had been told and Deran would be swallowed by the rest.

A circle.

That was comforting to them like salt is yearned by a slug; a false equivalency that did not go amiss.

A circle: that seemed too infinite to be broken.

This time, it would be _different_.

“I told Smurf.”

Adrian wiped his palm on his pants. “Hm?”

“I _told_ her,” he repeated, kicking his foot in the air to only retract his leg and settle it against the wall. “She took it with a grain of salt.” He snorted, muttering under his breath.

He told her. Told her. **Told** her. Told her _what_?

“You told her.”

Deran slid his hands across his chest, a grimace playing on his lips. “Are you trying to fuck with me?” He coughed into the sleeve of his shirt, “I mean for fuck’s sake-“ He wrapped his hand around his cep, “-I _told_ her.”

Adrian wasn’t deaf to what he had said. He was just unaware of what pretense hid behind Smurf being _told_. She could have been told several things. That she was a spiteful and vindictive cow. That she couldn’t discern when she was being manipulative and when she was doing something out of genuine kindness. That the distinction had become blurry and that all her actions would render her of her sons.

“That I’m with _you_.” Deran clarified, a stern drawl etched in his voice but one void of any malice, “Not really-just that I’m-“ he curled his hands into fists, “you _know_.” He said, the word most likely drawn on his tongue but refusing to escape past his lips.

 _Yeah_. Adrian tossed his head slightly back. _He knew_. As a way of acknowledgement.

He told her. Deran had told her something that would have probably shattered her very ground. Knowing that her son-her _baby_ -would never- _never_ look at her the way she expected them all to. That there was no way in hell that he would be capable of it. That all those years, the cozying up and the coaxing banter were all _futile_. That there was nothing she could do that would help.

That Deran was different and all she had done to the others would never work on him.

Adrian sensed that made Deran a strung lamb waiting to be cut open. For instance, it rendered him vulnerable. She would change her tactics- but to _what_. Maybe Deran would not be hung up for crude humor. Because at the end of the day, no one was more rendered weak by this than Smurf. She wouldn’t know how to hold onto him. How to have him in her grasp. Those mundane techniques would become just that- _mundane_.

They would _never_ work on him. They never have worked on him.

They never _will_ work on him.

Adrian felt the weary eyes penetrate into his forehead. Adrian swiped his hand through his hair, glancing down briefly. _How do you feel? What did her face look like? Deer in headlights,_ _right_? And they would laugh. A nervous laugh that would morph into one of absolute conviction. Because there was nothing she could _change_ about him. “Do you regret it?”

Deran laughed, coarsely.

Adrian lurched slightly forward. It was strange-having to see Deran’s guard down. Deran made no attempt at being callous and his blatant disregard of that made it that much more _strange_.

It was also comforting. Having him say more than what Adrian had expected was novel and the novelty didn’t wear thin. Adrian didn’t know whether he wanted to hear anymore than he was prepared for but he had already tried _not listening_. That worked out as well it possibly could. Which for all intensive purposes, went to _shit_.

“Yah.” Deran admitted.

 _Oh_.

Adrian thought through the logistics of his admittance. Being out only played in Deran’s favor. He didn’t necessarily have leverage but he had a trojan horse on his side. He could use it whenever he needed, well aware of the fact that a trojan horse would essentially do what it was always meant to do. Deceive and destroy.

He wanted to tell Deran that- “Makes sense.” He said, instead.

_Makes sense?_

“Huh.” Deran wondered, a slight dab of curiosity seeped through. Adrian bit down on his tongue, knew that _that_ wasn’t necessarily what he wanted to say. Not what he should be saying considering the circumstance. Yet, he wasn’t sure if he should be comforting Deran or whether Deran expected comfort. Whether if Adrian had offered it, it was what they were familiar with. Deran shot down, Adrian uplifting him. He wasn’t sure whether there was a distinction between him consoling Deran as a _friend_ rather than Adrian doing it as a habitual prerogative.

“S-“

“ _Yeah_.” Deran mumbled, “I regret it.” He repeated, “But that’s _my_ problem, not-“ He stopped short, drawing a hiss to stifle his sentence. Deran was quite as he cleared his throat. Shuffled in his corner. Held his stance, his posture not dropping once.  Despite having his guard down, he had his armor on. He wore it with such overtness, Adrian almost was impressed. “It’s my problem.”

As if Deran was meeting him half-way and _that **this** was what it meant to be meeting half-way_.

Felt, conducive.

Lack of a better word.

Did she provoke you? Why did you? What changed? Why _now_? “She must have seen a ghost.” He said, instead.

“She looked like she already knew.” Deran spat, drawing a hiss as if the thought had just stung him after being said out loud, “Like she just fucking _knew it all along_.” That there was now conviction in his observations and that he couldn’t take them back.

Smurf knew?

Which wouldn’t have been a terrible assumption to make. When it came to them, she knew everything. She knew how to play her cards. She must have known. Yet-did she? Did she know or was she genuinely that _good_ at playing a farce that even Adrian couldn’t know for sure what exactly she did know or not know.

“Makes sense.” There he went, repeating words that meant nothing more than filling empty space.

“No-not really.”

“Hmph?”

Deran slid down, feet extended out in front of him, lips etched thin. “It doesn’t make an ass lick of sense.” He continued. “I’m confused as _fuck_.” He groaned, sliding his hands over his face, gripping at the ends of his air in frustration. He muttered under his breath, kept repeating ‘it doesn’t make sense’ _sense. Sense. SENSE._

Adrian stymied himself into silence, pursing his lips as he itched at his forehead. If she had known and that didn’t change anything-there was no solace to take when taking that into consideration. Him being different meant nothing to her. It didn’t stop her from being the way she was, treating Deran the way she did despite knowing. If that was true, Adrian wasn’t sure whether her intent could have been any more unclear.

What was the purpose of her ploys if she knew he wouldn’t respond to it? Did she expect him to struggle innately as much as he did? Did she think that because of who he was surrounded by, he would be expected to _learn_ to appreciate her farce warmth and false pretense of comfort? Did she not care inspite of it all?

What the fuck was Smurf doing?

What was she playing at.

Then again-

What did it matter?

Adrian watched as Deran slipped a cigarette in between his lips, slicked the lighter, the bud lit as he took a languid inhale. He held his composure, his face falling flat, eyes shut closed, knocking his head back against the wall. He drew out an exhale, parsing his lips as he took another drag.

“I told her that she’ll find someone else to fix,” he took a longer drag, “eventually.” Deran added, flicking off some of the ashes into the cardboard box, which he presumed to be empty because _shit, if it wasn’t._ “She smacked me, right across my face-“ he held his palm out, imitated the reflex, “Once, then again.” He swayed his hand out in front of him, “And I felt like I’ve somehow managed to make her snap,” a bitter snort, “Slapped me one more time.  And then- she looked at me, with these eyes,” Deran’s eyes dilated in short, “And I felt like I didn’t have her on my _side_.”

Adrian flickered his eyes in Deran’s direction.

“I waited my entire life to be rid of her and I just had to say three words,” he said, almost to himself, “Three words and I didn’t have Smurf Cody on my side.” The thought of it seemed to bother him. Deran let out a shallow breath, swiping his thumb at the crane of his forehead. “I fucking _hated_ it.” His voice dropped.

Adrian kneaded his fingers together, dropped his gaze.

He waited for Deran to continue, to know what he had meant by that. He doesn’t have to wait long.

“Felt like I was alone. Like, really _alone_ ,” he shuddered, wrapping his arm defensively across his chest, “Man, I told myself that moment that I’d rather have her know and pretend that she didn’t and let her just _be_ than have her know and not do anything about it.” His voice thinned out, “I wanted her to just go back to treating me like shit. Trying to get me to _fuck her_. Anything. I mean, _anything_. And she just walked away-like there was no point.” It doesn’t take Adrian long to realize that Deran was talking more to himself than anything.

Well, _shit_.

Being alone in this world was a scary thing- he didn’t have to be told twice. He knew that feeling a little too well. Being surrounded by people to the point where he would feel suffocated but feeling aloof in a room full of people was isolating. It didn’t matter if there were hundreds-thousands-or just one person, he’d never felt comforted enough. He’d never felt like he was around anyone.

Having no one by his side was no different than even having one-maybe even more.

“Thank you.” Adrian mumbled, sliding his palm over his face, pressing into the sockets of both of his eyes. His eyes felt like they would, if given the opportunity, find a way to extricate themselves from their nerve endings and fall right out.

Deran flicked his eyes open, held his cigarette in between his index and middle-blew the smoke to his side before turning to look at him. He raised his brows, parsing his lips as if to say ‘for what?’

“For speaking in complete sentences.” He joked drily, “For telling me.” He continued, “For not just giving me half-assed explanations.” Because he was used to those. Almost expected them. “For, saying something different.”

An easy silence fell over them.

“Yeah-well.” He pressed the bud in between his lips, bit down without taking an inhale, “You asked.” And the overt genuineness of that had Adrian flushing. His cheeks warmed up, his hand flinched at the stark contrast.  “And, fuck _you_.” He said, void of any malice.

Deran sat there, motionless while the shadows grew long. He flicked the ashes off of the bud once in a while but he makes no attempt at doing anything else.

Silence.

Adrian had come to appreciate it. He found people were always afraid of it, always filled it with a nervous chuckle or futile words that meant nothing, as if they hadn’t been even said. But there was solace to take in the absolute quiet. There was something to be said of knowing that words didn’t necessarily need to be said to comfort him. Sometimes, it was the lack of them that helped.

And many weren’t used to that.

He was.

And that meant something.

“Pope was on a location scout. He’d found out through one of our guys that he was gonna have his bail revoked, “ Deran continued only to pause, as if he had missed making his point, “He kind of got drunk one night at a bar,” he clarified,  “Almost ripped the guy into shreds before Craig and I got him off-the guy pressed charges-“ The words escaped past his lips in verbatim, “And with his time in jail and Cat being gone, it felt like everyone was just watching him-he got paranoid and he took that out on you-“ he drew a sharp exhale, “He took it out on _you_.”

Huh.

_You think we’re playing games?_

_I didn’t do **anything**_ **.**

_You think we’re stupid?_

Huh.                                                                                    

“He took it out on you-“ he curled his hands into his flesh, “I didn’t have Smurf, I didn’t know if I had _you_ -“ which caused Adrian to stifle a withering gasp.  “And I didn’t want to lose them, too.” Because being alone wasn’t what Deran had rucked it up to be. “So I stood there, bit my tongue and let Pope blame you for something you didn’t even do.” Deran grappled his mouth shut, his lips whimpering even as his hair shielded most of his face.

In a way, it made sense. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted it to but it did. He let out a shaky snort as he raked his hand through his hair, grappling onto the ends in an effort to center his train of thought. Because- _shit_. He knew how it felt to be alone in this world. He knew how it felt to want to belong.

“I don’t know why I expected you to believe me.” Adrian laughed, catching short of his breath when it dulled the pang in his chest, “I guess I thought things would be different.” And maybe they should have been, considering the words said between them. “I think I expected too much from _you_ and that’s my fault.” And it was-if Adrian had his way, there wouldn’t have been a _them,_ there wouldn’t have been the years of stinging anger and resentment. And change? What did it matter if Deran had changed for him? It wouldn’t mean anything if he didn’t do it for himself.

Adrian saw how Deran shook his head, in motion to cut him off so Adrian held his hand out. “Who the fuck can make up for the past twelve years in less than a year, Deran? Huh-who? I wasn’t thinking practically.” Which he should have been from the start. It hurt more to have to not be with Deran than it did to be with him. It was this stab that only percolated in his chest when he wasn’t around Deran. And Adrian had found a way of telling himself that he’d rather have that knife deep in his chest than not have it at all.

 _It takes two to tango_.

Was it an excuse he had accepted when he’d told himself that if he had indeed changed for the both of them, that things wouldn’t be as fucked up as they are. Maybe. Most likely.

“I’m so-“

“Don’t.” Deran stopped him. It was final. Resolute. “ _Don’t_.” His voice croaked, “ _Please_.”

Adrian scurried from off the ground, taking timid steps in Deran’s direction. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. He wasn’t sure what he needed to say. But he knew what had to be said.

Adrian knelt beside Deran, kept a rather large distance between them-not large enough. He dropped his gaze, watched as Deran tossed his head further down, his hair shielding his eyes.

Adrian slid his hand against Deran’s jaw, cupped his chin and forced him to look up. He watched as Deran’s eyes wavered everywhere except at him. “Deran,” he called out, knowing what this would all culminate to. What this entire decade or so had been to them. And what it would continue to be for them. “I’m right here,” he thumbed his hand in a circular motion, “Even if I try, I can’t seem to fucking get out of here,” he admitted, “I tried leaving, remember?”

Leaving oceanside felt like the _practical_ and pragmatic course of action. If there were miles between them, sure enough they should be able to move on, recuperate, fix themselves in a manner that didn’t leave either of them that much broken. And yet, if Adrian was telling the truth, he felt that knife plunge deep into the tissues of his flesh. He felt it swiftly twist and jab in all turns-he had felt worse by the time the week ended. He had felt even more drained and exhausted.

Leaving-

That should have never been considered a possibility.

How could he have? There was just too much of himself in Deran. If he had known better, he would have stayed. He would have sought out for Deran. He would have convinced himself that leaving meant that he’d be pushing away everything just as he had always done.

Staying on the other hand? He had convinced himself that _that_ was worse than having to confront the issue head on. Leaving meant he was running away and there was no difference between him and the hypocrisy he would have soon embodied if he didn’t just _fix it_. Fixing them didn’t necessarily mean that they would somehow mend each other pristinely and find a way back to each other. It just meant that neither of them would have knives shoved deep into their backs, suffocating their will to just _be_.

“I’m pissed, man.” Adrian admitted. “Kind of wanted you take my side.” It was all he wanted. That moment, he was sure he had expended all the hope he had somewhere hidden in a crevice. He wanted it to be mean something. He wanted it to be different. “But, that’s not _you_ , man.” Because Deran didn’t know what it meant to take sides. He just knew what it meant to get through with the least amount of repercussions.

Adrian dealt with a lot of situations in a similar manner.

It seemed like they both did.

“I didn’t want Smurf to look at me like that,” Deran whispered. “Like it meant nothing because then-she still wins right?” He huffed under his breath, “Because she’s always in here.” He jabbed his forehead, “Because she always will be-“ Deran shuddered, falling into Adrian’s clutch.

Adrian curled his hands around his neck, pushing him forward.

He hadn’t forgotten.

“ _Fuck-_ ”

He’d never really forget.

But he understood.

The ache in his chest sprung up once more and fizzled out simultaneously. The weariness that wore him down dismantled in on it’s own as Adrian let out a ragged exhale. Because- _shit_.

Adrian was not surprised as he dropped his hand to unbuckle Deran’s belt. He got it one swift stride, quick as he tugged the zip down, pressing up against Deran in a hurried rush. Adrian gripped onto his shirt and promptly shrugged it off, his coming off shortly.

Deran fingers were frantic as he grabbed onto Adrian’s flesh, sliding his hand up and craned it around his neck. He raked his other hand and slipped into the helm of Adrian’s shorts, while simultaneously using his stealthy to drag them both into his room.

Adrian flinched when his head collided with the frame of the door, Deran’s hand rushed to mask the impact, lessening the ache. He fisted his nimble fingers through Adrian’s hair, jostling through the ends as he pressed his lips against Adrian’s. It was a ragged and harsh kiss that impaled Adrian’s lips.

As his body hit the mattress, Deran tugged off his shorts in one swift motion. It was easy and unbecoming of how easy it was.

Adrian settled on his knees, grappling his elbows out in front of him as he hovered over.  His ragged breathing was rough against his chest, his heart pulsating and ricocheting off of the walls.

It doesn’t take long before Deran split open on two fingers and Adrian bellowed down as the quick pumps of thick fingers light his nerves on fire. Deran scissored his fingers wide, Adrian feeling the very empty space inside himself , all the places that he was sure Deran would soon fill up.

He slipped his fingers out before swiftly pushing himself in.

Adrian grunted as he freed his fingers, clenched his hand into a fist when something hard and unyielding pressed up and against him.

Adrian noticed the ‘North County’ newspaper. He caught a glimpse every time his body rocked forward  with the weight of Deran’s thrusts. He gripped onto the sheets until his knuckles cracked, the palms of his hands turning a ghostly white. Even with the dimmed light in the room, he could see the shift in color.

He dug his feet into the mattress, knees aching with every subsequent thrust. Deran had tugged one arm swiftly around Adrian’s waist, his nails pressing into his flesh in verbatim manner. Adrian clamped down on his teeth, the sounds of the top and bottom half gritting against each other as if a chalk piece was being gnawed into the floor.

He can fucking _smell_ him. The mist of it. The pungent scent from the cheap-aftershave. The copper and grass, that musky dark smell that comes from pushing himself too far. The salty scent perforated and cut through the rest but it does nothing to hide it all.

Adrian knew that if he bit down just a little bit harder, focused instead on the journal column everytime it appeared in his periphery, he’d be able to muffle the innate urge to scream out, punch in. He just had to focus, which he did with absolute precision. Blood curdled into the corner of his mouth as he bit down-just a little _harder_. Not that there was any reason for him to be quiet. They weren’t doing this in the public bathroom. Nor were they giving each other a one-off in the car in the garage.

There was no one there but them both. Yet that was a notion that flew over their heads because it didn’t matter if there was no one there to watch, there to _hear_.

The sheets are wrinkled as Adrian kneaded his free hand through them, trying to grasp at anything when Deran nailed him in his prostate. His skin bristled as the warmth emanated through, his flesh prickling with arid sweat that swept over him like a wave. It was wet to the senses but it existed nowhere but in his mind. The room felt _warm_ but it was compounded with immense harsh cold that had Adrian tossing his head down, unclamping his teeth and instead biting down on his tongue.

Sweat stuck to his back in such density that Adrian arched his back just to feel the cool air braze against his flesh. Deran cradled his other hand around, curling his hand around _him_ , giving one sharp tug before another one had Adrian jolt forward. Deran stopped him from flipping over the ledge of the bed, holding him back.

“W-“ Adrian hissed, the immensity of it all weighing him down like a crashing wave- “I-“ he struggled to get the words out, his words caught in his throat in succession, “I-wai-“ _shit_.  He gasped for air, knowing very well that he struggled to even inhale everytime Deran tugged, his pace picking up. The thrusts were dragged out, not until Deran had pulled completely out did he push right back in. Deran’s other hand had fastened, the time between each pull had become shorter.

At this rate, Adrian wondered whether he would see stars hanging over his head, before he’d came.

Adrian arched his back forward, the only thing keeping him from falling flat on his face being Deran’s cool hands pressed into his hip.   

Adrian squeezed his fingers tighter into the sheets.

A long moan shook free when Deran hips slowed down, the contrast with the previously fast pace becoming a stinging whip. It stung him to the point where Adrain clenched his legs together only for Deran to knee his leg back apart.

“I’m go-“ pass out. Come. _Pass out_. “-Der-“ stop touching me like that. Don’t be that slow. Pick up the pace. “ _Shit_.” He recoiled when Deran’s hips rolled languidly, the tingle that crept up his spine had Adrian shuddering as he was propelled forward. Deran dropped his hand from around _him_ and swept it across his back, tugging at the ends of his already short hair. He gripped onto the hair in urgency, tugging his head back as he dug his elbow into Adrian’s lower back.

“I’m gonn-“

Adrian nodded, “Me too.” He was able to gasp out. He felt like his eyes would fall out their sockets, so instead he squeezed them shut. He dropped his shoulders as Deran gripped Adrian’s hand and pulled it back. Adrian dropped his head, the pull of his hand doing nothing but exacerbating the shiver than ran up his toes and through his spine.

Deran spread his knees wider, pushed once more-this time, the length of him entirely out before being pressed right up against Adrian in such a swift manner, Adrian dug his own fingers into his own back just to stifle the groan.

Deran slid out, pressing Adrian against him before he dropped beside him. He let out a languid groan as his back hit a pillow, reaching over for the shirt sprawled right underneath him. Adrian let out a sharp breath, uncurling his fingers from the wrinkled sheets. His knees ached less he drained some of the pressure off. He fell onto his stomach, crumpled into a heaving mess as he tried to catch his breath.

The room felt smaller than it had been. His vision was blurry but not to the point where he had the urgency to splash water into his eyes. His legs gave out imminently. Adrian drew them in, hissing slightly before stretching them back out.

The place beside him dipped as Deran turned over to lay on his back. He slid his shirt in Adrian’s direction, pressed it against his chest. He guided the fabric over Adrian’s lower torso, blindly yet _sensibly_.

Adrian turned his hot check against the mattress, panted there for a minute, tried to gather himself back together. Yet, it got harder to manage. He gripped onto Deran’s wrist, which had Deran freeze-

His lips parted in a wailing silence, as if he waited for Adrian to tell him to-

 _Go home_.

To remind him-

_You are alone._

_I’m not on your side._

_You never had me._

_You will never have me._

To make him-

_Panic._

_To crush his tethering sense of comfort_.

And as that became blitheringly obvious, Adrian coughed into the elbow of his hand-

“Where did you put the lemon bars?”

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT. GAH. GAH. GAH.


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